lay here with me in this cold and lonely realm

not to feel my body heat or the way my skinny little legs gently intertwine in my sleep

not to see the veins of my eyelids as i dream or the shape in which my hair falls on the pillow

but to realize just how cold and just how lonely a realm can really be

even if the little things you love happen to live there

- l.f.

depression dwells beyond the depths of any other drowning emotion

encasing your soul inside an old empty house with only one window pane

and through this window you see your former self, your happiness, your soul, your devotion

but this former self is out of reach, and the sadness has already stained

your dark thoughts escape and make themselves known

weighing you down like gravel

she slithers in your eardum and gently whispers

stick around, dear, there is much more to unravel

- l.f.

i don't know much about the moon
for half of it is always hidden

and i envy the stars that can peer at the scars on the other side of where i'm sitting

i can't say much about the tides
that fall victim to your tug

but i can observe that with every fibbing word
the sounding sea has had enough

- l.f.

every painful experience with you
was like a tap on a typewriter key

it began as a letter or two
and two quickly turned to three

and before i knew it
there were pages and pages
of what i thought was a growing love

only to find
that whom i held closest
never thought i was enough

and so novels were written
letter by letter
in longs days and longer nights

and it took me a trilogy to see he didn't love me

but he did, infact, love to write

- l.f.