The mysterious unknown that I hate to love.
Calm, collected and quiet: leaning against the wall.
I watch two eyes watching the world in front of them.

Reading thoughts and seeing emotion flash across an unmoving face.
I could write a book about those lips.
The ones who trap words like flies, and speak like jazz music,
blowing their notes into the warm wind.

When he watches me, I know my cheeks change color.
I am a human mood ring, see the colors that I bleed.
Never letting me leave, and never giving me the chance to want to.

Small gaps of time for thinking,
Only st-st-stammering.
Until I have no reason to.

My mind an echo of recorded moments and my eyes a moving picture.
Until we meet again.

The smallest of day dreams can become haunting.
Anyone can call you beautiful,
but only someone can reach out the hand that saves you.
Those who look lost,
who wander without purpose.
They need someone to hand them a map,
to breathe out the light that shines their ship to shore.
Anyone can give a secret smile,
that will be wondered about for the remainder of the day.
Only someone can stop,
and say hello.

My heart has never been so heavy.
The older I grow the more I am weighed down to the ground.
I walk among the leaves, grass blades rising over my head.
The stitches that have mended my heart over the years remain.
My heart has never been so heavy.
Sometimes I feel as though I'll burst.
The secrets, feelings, thoughts all trapped inside.
Oh if there ever was a heart that had nothing to hide.

A segmented discernment between what I feel and what I know,
remains in my being throughout the day.
A hardship cycled and recycled,
until the truth comes out.
A graying cloud filled to the brim begins to rain down.
Redemption, hope, simplicity.
And all I can say is,
*Let it rain.

Reflecting pools so alike myself they become mirrors.
A kind blessing that only some could understand.
Whispering in the stillness.
Losing tears to the flood as it rushes down the road.
Beating on the pavement rampant in flight.
Simple melodies converge into an overwhelming drone.
And the reflecting pools stir within themselves.
Puddles that slide in single lines to streams into the street.
Mornings when the sun glows into warm unawakened eyes.
Holding on so tight.
Let go.

It all started in a garden,
the grievances show no favor in time.
Amongst beautiful flowers and tall grasses.
There is pain in beauty,
there is trouble in love,
and yet there is hope.
It will end in a garden.
Where the red roses grow.

Its crazy to me.
How the ending of something can prolong itself.
How one can completely forget their reasons for a decision.
I want to be alone.
And yet I have this gnawing feeling in my stomach when I am.
I suppose it isn't the human way.
I have never been what one would call normal.
But I still have never felt like this much of an outsider.
I watch the world in front of me, and can only sometimes see my place in it.
One ending.
And just a face, a similar shirt, a  blurry photograph can bring everything back in full force.
I want to be alone.
I am independent.
But I am still waiting, to find what I've been looking for.
Consider this a hiatus in the grand scheme of things.
And cheers, to the bittersweet feelings that cloud my already fogged train of thought.
Because what would a boring normal mind be anyway.