Written with my dearest Dane Johnson
This grove of insanity, perhaps it is that you wish to get lucky?
We walk hand in hand. Luck, being so subjective we forget to define.
Ultimatums come hitherto, I'm afraid your luck has run dry.
I can't buy any more time to convince you or I that someday we may see eye to eye.
My, oh my, please don't cry.
Who's really winning when everyone's sinning?
Yet the world keeps on spinning to our wrecked hearts.
I crave the fire and yet don't like to get burned.
As we undress, we softly caress our scars.
We avoid the pain by closing our eyes,
but it's something we both can't stop feeling.
And yet we continue invariably denying.
And the silence we share speaks more words than would be divulged had we done otherwise.
The words sent in secret go unnoticed by everything, but my heart has made it difficult to look in the mirror and see the beauty of anything we ever had.
Mirrors show nothing of the pain that pictures do, because then I have to see your shining face with your sparkling eyes, always your eyes.
But you never felt the tears that fell from them. We don't know the touch of each others pain.
Your pained words take on more than you are. And yet we find peace at lust's end. And it is with that end that we are no more.
We've known all along that all we have ever wanted to be is more than the silence that echos in the sliver of space left between our fast beating hearts. I could see it in your eyes when you forgot to guard the doors in.
And now my door opens to a new light.
Silence is golden, but what was once sliver could become silver, oh so easily.
However lighthearted pennies are,
the trouble is not worth the pain.
She smiles quietly watching him walk away from penny lane.