I see you, seeing the real me; the woman who hides.
The woman who hides behind the pain of familial hurts
that refuse to fall off and die. I see you, seeing me, looking at me deeply with your heart. I see you looking into my eyes;
who are you really looking at? What are you looking for?
I have pain yes, I have hurts, yes. I have pains that you’ll never
want to know about.

But your eyes, your eyes are the window to my soul.
That night at the table I saw you, looking at the real me.
I saw the deepness inside of you, through your eyes.
I saw your devotion; you reached out to me and gave
me something I’ve never had before, real strength.

You say to me, “life is too short to be unhappy.”  
Because of your strength, I am working on just that,
being happy. Because of the way you look into me, I am clearing out the sadness and clutter that has kept my life
in deep dis-repair.  

I am working on not allowing any person; place or solitary
thing, to steal my joy, and to keep me down.
Because of the way you look into me, I am a work in progress.
Because of the way you look into my soul, I am working
on making changes that you see deep inside of a broken me.

When I look into your eyes, I see feelings; I see strength,
I see the power of what a really good man can actually do.
I see a drop of golden honey, that gets sweeter and
sweeter with each passing day.

When I look into your eyes, I see my future being put
together with grains of sand, that bind us together to
heal both our pasts.  When you look into my eyes, I feel you inside of me. Your strength is helping me heal,
you are rebuilding my hurts; pains, and all of my
disappointments.

When you sit next to me and stare into my eyes;
my soul is being autographed by your character.
You give me a portion of your strength when your
eyes look through me and see my pain.
Your eyes see something in me that I ever knew
was there, because your eyes are the window  
to my healing soul, I can work on healing myself,
and release my hidden pain and sadness.

She blows the soft smoke gently away
sitting on her windowsill, the third floor
the darkened horizon melts drowsily
leaving its mysteries to her own heart
as it is not full enough of the madness

She rises slowly with the sweet smoke
turning her head towards the mirk sky
what is there to see, in her own world
closing the eyes to travel infinitely far
as the honey is melting in the tepid tea

She throws her glass of wine away
she smiles and cries as nobody sees
the darkness, deep and cruel but sweet
as is her heart, dark, but yet so soft and kind
painful and hateful, yet so loving and forgiving
mad and crazy but so deeply understanding

Why only the crescent comprehends
only the stars listen to the quiet melody
the songs of love and pure wistfulness
she knows everything but is scared of living
as the world is not kind, instead, it is cruel
the fear, the unknown, the failure of life itself

She puts her finger in the darkened wine
and draws a line on the wall with blood
enjoying the sadness and loving to hate
She likes to be alone, alone, sweet world
You, always alone in your deeds and thought

She sees from far, a distant closeness engulfs
only art saves the heart, only beauty consoles
the crescent starts to fade slowly and softly
many of the clouds swim towards their path
covering the moon and leaving her lying

Withering away as in the mind of destruction
where everything can make a nest within itself
she lies there motionlessly, silently, calmly
listening to every sound her heart whispers to her
as the music starts to play in her head of frenzy

She lived once but not anymore, as all fades
where does this crippling melancholy lead to
the stars never wrote a script for the existence
but they gave the mind a code to decipherer
as they gave the heart a wisdom to learn from

She pours the sweet Bordeaux in front of her
gulping in sips, turning her head, staring ahead
all is sweet, all is beauty, all is art if only you see
shadow the pain and leave it intact for the truth
as the time flows between her fingers to eternity

those self depreciative thoughts
running through your brain
again and again
'cause in a world that no one
comprehends your deepness
and intensity,
you're bound to feel left out
inappropriate
sad and wrong.

you do are enough.
you do are funny.
you do are caring
and generous.
and if they don't value
all these great qualities you have
then, it's their lost, okay?
not your ******* fault.
keep doing you.
that's the bravest thing to do.

I’m seeking inspiration, as this is what I am lacking,
For me be the source of this,
A tranquil guide, my focus, my distraction
Tell me the stories of what makes your heart so tender.
Show me your memories, and allow me to imagine you as a child
Tell me of what you fear and what creates warmth within you.
Let me discover what makes your body tremble
Allow me to see your smile which is hidden,
to hear the laughter when your kind of comedy is spoken,
The real, the genuine and the deepness within you
This is what I wish to be my inspiration.

In the heart of the jungle
past the thick and murky swamps,
through the mist and the unending rain
lies a place that will leave you
never the same.

It is a silent place,
quite and tranquil
wisdom radiates
from mossy green gates.

Cool waters babble softly to one another.
Silent meadows bask in the shade.

Golden light cascades
from on high
a mysterious deepness
written in the sky.

The stillness of the wood
written on the faces
of the jungle.

Nothing stirs
nothing moves.
Life is frozen,
paused in a eternal embrace.
Locked in sweet paralysis
drowning in the serenity that surrounds.

In the stillness of the wood
that is where you will find
me.