Two hearts
Inside a bubble;
Rain

Two eyes see
Truth & Trust

Two hands
Entwined together;
Framed

Two beings
Love & Lust

As blue turns to a blending of colours,
I grow hungry to hold her again,
and in the security of midnight blue,
I treasure the moment I am able to summon her presence

Caressing her beauty I mould her,
adding extra fingers, arms, curves,
unbelievability turned magic,
enchanted I lose myself, unconscious.

She gives me unicorn kisses,
and twinkles like the eyes of god,
loving me, she loves me,
she loved and I love and love is everywhere now.

but from the blending of scarlets, violets, roses,
back to bold, burdensome, blamed blue,
she slipped through my shivering solitary fingers,
escaped from under my sheets and is forgotten in the cold.

Her body not ever to be realised,
still I bring her out each night to bring warmth,
to be held in the delicate moments of dusk.

When i first met you
you told me you could do a 360
on a wave
with your boogy board.
I told you i liked to paint
because you looked like a painter.
First of all i was lying.
I can't paint pictures
but i love to paint souls.
I love to splatter them with vibrant memories
and to add on to your mind with soft strokes of pastels.
I would love it more than anything
if you were a painter of souls too.
I need someone to paint my mind
something other than dark moody red and browns.
It would be lovely if you could paint me with yellows
and teals and pinks.
Maybe ill even let you paint my heart
Maybe ill even paint yours.

Hello my old heart
i'm sorry to say
that during all the time you took off
due to being broken
you my dear
have been replaced.
For what you may ask?
Because you were always
too busy sitting under my ribcage
knitting scarfs and hats of messy emotions for me to wear.
It made it a slight bit difficult for your co-worker, the brain, to function.
And you know how important it is, that he does.
See this new heart doesn't talk much.
Its calmly sits and listens obediently to the brain.
To be honest, its wonderful.
As much as i remember how fantastic it was
to let you, let me love.
I also remember how much i hated
how you let me hurt.
So now i want you to think of this
next time you are placed under someones ribcage,
If you had only listened to the brain    
maybe you wouldn't have broken
and then maybe i never would have fired you.

The story opens
and the curtains reveal a man pacing back and fourth
but only within his mind
as he shifts his legs in a well used chair

We the audience, and the cellos ambiance
wait for any kind of sound apart from the squeaking of chairs
it would seems our eager stares
and judgmental glares
stretch the time between the shifting of legs
and silence becoming sound

sweat beads from his brow
because now to the eighteenth minute
he will sit in silence, broken only by
his last breath before he is to bloom
into transcendence
as written in the type face of the script

and he is nervous
the set may be alive, the dancers may be lively
but he in 15 minutes shall die dramatically
the story shall be driven upon death,
his body shall lie motionless
his heart will beat ferociously
he must be emotionless

The story closes
behind the curtain a body is risen again
a personality is peeled from his face
struck blind by seeing light through his own eyes

That night he sleeps and dreams
about being dead without a heartbeat
for once