I walked in the rain
On a summer day
Wond'ring if that face
Would show up again
I took each step
With the fog in my eyes
I want to get lost
But can't help standing by
I watched my past
As if I'm watching you coming near
And all that's coming
Are all of my fears
Rain of my thoughts
Kept coming on point
Maybe you would
But maybe you won't

To sit
means
to be sitting already
-in the mind-

The same goes for
literature and
written music:
to be read
means
to be performed
-in the mind-

Some great production
of the theatrical imagination:
to project familiar airs of many a
stranger's voice behind the eyes

Three small chunks of my soul
Ripped right out of my chest
          Every weekend

       The same **** thing
The hugs, tears and kisses goodbye
               With them
The screaming, mistrust and hateful words
               With him

The pain seems neverending
And never getting any better
       All the bridges burned
   Without
          a single
                look
                      back­

But regret can build and build
When you realize some bridges
             Can't be rebuilt

And yet
         I can't regret him
Or the pain he dealt to me
    Cause he helped to create
Those three small pieces of my soul

          And they may be small
      But put together
   They create my life as a whole

    Every Weekend
The same **** thing
        And it hurts
   Finally having that feeling
Like you're actually whole
         Then all three pieces
             Get
            RIPPED
       Right out of my soul


And until next weekend
**I cannot feel whole

If
  They
     Really
        Do
           Love
              You
            They'll
         Never
      Leave
   You