We used to paint oceans of sorio lillies, across the sky pouring tears of life.
Merging memories of sore pasts and saw paths that revamped lost plants.
Without a seed, groomed roses and blossomed fields of dying daisies daily decaying dim.

Her kiss embellished wrathful storms,with red feathers of white birds drifting to the shore, of fine sand born from light zones in dark ends.

Now she's a ghost, a spirit of a wild mild mind in an abyss of enraged beasts. She's alive and breaths still,but her breath passes by the trees as though another leaf carried by the wind.
Is she in a coffin inside a casket buried beneath the garden of joy but only ripping despair, gloriously singing by herself?

Lacking imperfection his un illuminating
yarn woven secrets speak spilling
silt that doesn’t even exist.

Inseperable the meta voltaic charged touch
of her skin against his blemished soul leaving behind
marks of polyphony with staccatos hanging by a pine,
gathering gusts of wind and rocking his unsteady soul
on the swing set into a leap into the depths
of the blue oceanic sky and diving deep
into her love
that binds him together
forever more.

Ever again her calming wind
shakes up the roots of the evergreen trees
in the movable earth of his body.

a little girl like myself
would think a hurricane like you
a beautiful carousel to ride into

Another year in this land.
Another beer in my hand.
I can hear the sounds of the bands,
And the hands, being held, in the street.
I'd love to be, a part of all the festivities.

There are lights in the clouds,
Women swinging around
The waists of the men that they love.

And as the clocks ticking down,
I'll be wrapped, in the shroud
Of the joy in the hearts of men.

What a wonderful time to be alive.

It's been more than
A year, and still
Sometimes I talk to you
In my dreams
I'm not sure
If that makes them nightmares.
I also can't decide
If I'd rather it never happened,
Or that it never ended.

Walls are not meant to keep others out,
but to keep yourself in.