I have a room with a view:
busy London street,
white and red lights
of cars rushing past,
magnificent church
hidden behind trees,
a couple passing by
holding hands
deeply immersed
in conversation.

I wonder if the moon in your place
is as big and bright as here in London.

What do you see in me
Do you see a smiling girl?
A smart girl?
A girl who loves to sing?
A girl who always knows how to make you laugh?
Or who knows what your going to say?
A girl you can tell everything to?
A girl who sees the good in the world?
Who sees nature differently?
Who sees purity in the dark?
Someone who knows how to fly?
What if I told you...
I'm the girl who goes on crying for days...
I'm the girl who does school work 6 hours straight,afraid to fail....
I'm the girl who poors out her feelings in song because no one can hear my words...
Who only makes you laugh so she doesn't cry...
Who knows what you will say because she remembers every one of your words afraid they will be your last...
I'm the girl who listens to your problems so she doesn't have to live through hers...
Who sees the good so she can chase away the bad...
Who wishes she could be a bird that way she'd finally be free...
I'm the girl who is the dark so she picks out the purity because she wishes to be that light...
I'm the girl who only knows how to fly because I'm scared to fall...
Do you still see those things in me?
Am I still that never ending joyful person?

often times

when I am laying alone at night

I feel his presence with me

and my love for him is overwhelming

it beats within my chest

so hard I worry it may break my heart

he looked at me
like no other
as if he could see
the stars in my eyes
the other guys saw me
as a piece of meat
but he looked at me
with love in his eyes

I lie awake.
The half moon,
whose soft white shine
invades my room
and makes the tears that rest on my cheeks sparkle;
illuminates half of my face
so that the moon and I
can become a whole.

Only me
and the silence of 2 A.M.

Outside goes the party-goer
-knackered and filled with a portion of fresh memories
that won't be found in the morning-
to his rest.

Only he
and the silence of 2 A.M.

Outside stumbles the drunkard
-with repressed thoughts and events
that he couldn't erase out of his memory by a bottle-
to his end.

Only he
and the silence of 2 A.M.

Outside staggers the broken one
-with blood that’s drowning in wine and as red as the lips of the woman he tries to forget-
to his death.

Only he
and the silence of 2 AM.
L.T.

A hundred words
        and more I could
                              "say"

But that look in your eyes
             says it all
   with out words.