leave me in the garden to die.
i will not let you save me-
leave me alone with the dead leaves of autumn,
with the coldness of winter settling in my bones.
i don't want to be saved-
leave me along the dead and decayed
and come back to bury me in the spring.
i have left to find death,
to pick it's flowers and to finally rest.

One day I will meet my end.
Will your face fade from my eyes?
I lay buried with you in my heart.
The circling sun and moon come together in a line.
Abstinence and honesty lose their grip.
I die bit by bit seeing the quiver of your lip.
O beloved, I implore you to give me your heart.
Standing on the other shore, longing to reach you.

I managed to find the beauty, buried beneath your pain; your little bit of sunshine, life had buried; though its possession you retained.

is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.

I grinned while seeing your grave,
You are now buried there alive,
I can hear your screams in my head,
See you in hell, my old good friend.

HEARTBREAK

BETRAYAL

PAIN

I see the warning everywhere
But I can ignore them, because,

To have my heart broken
Means for it to have been whole

To feel betrayed
Means to have trusted

To be buried in pain
Means to have been above it at one point

I don’t know if
I can get out of this hole
I’ve dug for myself

And I’m starting to
bury
myself
alive

On every alluring  mountain peek
where the soil has buried it deep
there is a heart somewhere up there
hiding from everyone's reach
the rubble the rock the rugged roads
the cliffs the falls the thorns
the height the struggle the effort
differs from one to another
from bumps to dunes to spires
the struggle doth differ much
but if the climbers mind sees no other peek
then for sure your heart will be found.

A love buried in the depth of the earth
skipping the grave that can be lit up
and the bottom of the sea
water billows out of this abyss
netting the eyeballs of the sky.
Then the bottom of the night
was skipped likewise.

Taring the shades of black
there the moon rolls out
in the enchanting half-light.
So it had to be tucked away
only at the bottom of the earth.

Everything the all-inclusive pi  
could pop up from that safe womb there
that carries the weight of the matters  
but never shows up an equating pattern!

The nightingale scurries to the red rose
bubbling on the morning tessera
as if it mined out the treasure of the earth!
Oh it doesn't seem to be the only one scorer
upon the rose a mirror is up in the sky
‘Love’ is in the eyes of the sun!