Hit rock bottom.
My lungs burn.
Cold steel jungle.
Never did learn.

Ink on the arm.
Stories do tell.
Life behind bars.
Sure is hell.

Many empty nights.
Lost in my dream.
One last tear.
In silence do I scream.

Walking in somber.
Bitten by tragedy.
Finding the fault.
Death of the comedy

Leaving my print.
Sad words to say.
Film on the floor.
Gone another day.

Today a flower unfurls in a distant place,
its fragrance a sweet smelling savor,
its delicate frame echoing lost beauty,
it whispers a name that can never be forgotten.

A mirror
constantly
in the state
of not knowing.
It only
Reflects
from the
outside...

Pure awareness
constantly
in the state
of knowing.
It reflects
Itself
In
Itself*...

I am made of wood,
I’m never quite understood,
a clockwork spring makes me talk,
pulling my strings makes me walk,

My painted cheeks are rouged with red,
as I slump in silence upon the bed,
no one see’s and no one hears,
my jingle, jangle clockwork tears.

I have a tiny teddy bear, with a tartan collar.
It has a bell attached, just so I can hear it playing.
It sits silently on my pillow during daylight hours.
I gave it a name.
"Edward Surprisingly."
Someone bought it a rain hat.
Can't remember who.
I swear, that I heard the ringing it's jingly jangly bell the other night.
The darkness seemed to echo through the atmosphere of night.

Today I went to work.
I got in rather late.
Went into my bedroom.
Just to change my clothes.
I parked my posterior on my bed.
Expected to find him.
Smiling at me in a bear sort of way.
On my bed, right next to my pillow.
Nothing's there.
Not hide nor heel of Edward.
My ever faithful loving bear.
Heard a strange ringing running through my head.
Went off to investigate.
Edward, my lovely diminunitive friend, was curled up in my grandsons bed.
Maybe,
Just maybe Edward, had realised that the baby loves a teddy bear.
Rather more than me.
He felt that I'd neglected him.
He thought I didn't care.
I did.
Edward was my confidante.
He knows all things good and true.
A few bad things too.
Hoping in my heart of hearts,
that he doesn't tell you.
If he did I'm lucky, as baby, he so cannot speak.
My secret's safe with him as well.

(C) Livvi