Ten days ago we held hands
we walked through the desert sands and landed
I wrote you a song, more than candid, it rang
as the day long, I sang, in your head over and over
Seventy two times you heard your lover-song.
Nine days ago you couldn't wait to embrace
the thoughts that flushed your face while my whispers sang
As you pushed through your work day
waiting to be enchanted by your lover
over counters, under covers, atop a car or in the bar
wherever it could be that my hands tickled your skin
outside and within all you wanted was for those words to be real
off the paper and off my lips to feel my words by way of passion.

Then the irrational hits started tipping the ship
that was waiting at the end of the desert.
Eight and seven days ago we held hands
as the ***** sands blew through our air
I tended your illness and kissed your despair waiting for the tide to fall
through it all we walked to the end of the deserts edge.
Holding hands I saw the upcoming ledge and worried under the sun
reminding myself of your promise to not run.
Six days ago we held hands and when my foot slipped
my heart ripped
I tripped and told you I was to fall.

Five days ago I was let to fall with no hand holding mine at all.

I've always wondered why you get so cold.
And how you can be so distant.
You make everyone here so angry and confused. Yet, you don't even try to fix yourself.
I though someday soon, you'd learn to love. And that you'd maybe even want me. Because you'd realize that I know how to love unconditionally and that you'd want that.
Everyday I have to deal with the burden of missing you. But you could care less about me and yourself.
When I see that handsome face, I can't help but to notice the burden in your eyes. It makes me treble. It makes my heart rupture. Because all those times when I needed safety and comfort, I had the desire to be with you. To love you. Maybe you'll want me around soon. I guess for now I'll just wait until you might learn to love me too.

I feel sad again
I don't know why

I play around with it in my head
But there's still no reason why

Maybe it's because I fail at all I try
Maybe it's because I am not special
Maybe it's because I'm too weak
Maybe it's for no reason at all
Maybe my outlook is simply too bleak

Suicide; I haven't thought of how
In a long time
Suicide; I have thought of  when
Maybe now

It seems as good a time as any
But how to do it?
The choices again are too many.

I tried it once and failed
(Story of my life)
A halfhearted attempt derailed

I am sad again
I don't know why
I am deep
Below the sky

Help!
I shout
In my head
Help!
I never shout
Out loud
Again why?

Oh let me cry
I want to weep but I can't
And here again WHY

I feel alone
My heart beat frozen
I want to show how I feel
On the out side
But it never seems right
I am a in a solo fight
Again
WHY?

I'm heavy and fat
But I hate the heavy feeling that stops my simile
But I hate the heaving feeling that keeps me in bed
I hate the heavy feeling hovering all the while
I hate the heavy feeling that's rotting my head.
I'm fat and I hate it but I'm sad and I hate it more
This heaving feeling I abhor

Am I rotten?
Am I rotting?
I don't see the point
Is there one?

I am sad
Again
I don't know why

The pain is too much and has been going on for far too long
Good things never last and bad things find a way to stay
I feel abandoned and alone
I feel like I have no home

Lost in a dark forest
It's black and all around are the screams of who I used to be
In the distance I see a tall black tree
On it a rope
I tie it around my neck and set myself free

Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my belovèd as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Therefore my verse to constancy confined,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
“Fair, kind, and true” is all my argument,
“Fair, kind, and true” varying to other words;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
    Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
    Which three till now never kept seat in one.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.