"All things end." Rolls arrogantly
off your lips.
I know. Reply yes.
But silently think....
"All things do not have the same ending."
I'll ponder the end of a day
when the moon chases the sun from its' sky.
Some will find rest at the end of that day
while others will find restlessness.
Yes, days end, but the end is not
the same for all.
My mind will drift to the end of innocence.
For some this will be a welcomed
end.
But what about innocence stolen
by the perverted desires of a
trusted love one?
What will that ending bring?
Then there is the end of life.
Maybe it is a life lived full with
Love, loss, and laughter
and the remembrance
of time shared gently caresses the
salt stained cheeks of the ones left behind.
Now see a young girl watching
her mother drift into the grave
as the child's dead brother is buried.
A young child's life
cut short
and a mother's heart broken
leaving behind an empty shell.
The end of life.
The end of a Mother's presence.
The end of a family as once known.
Endings with impact
felt yet not revealed for years to come.
Then there are the endings
Without beginnings.
The dream of loving fully and being loved
unfulfilled, incomplete.
And desires for a forbidden love
only fulfilled through fantasy
Until one day
reality steals the dream
and another ending comes to pass.
So be careful when you say,
"All things end."
For all things do not
have the same ending.

She told me that she never had real spaghetti before.
Of course she's had spaghetti before but not in the sense that made it worthwhile.
When I asked why she replied that it didn't feel real.
That in a sense it was pasta.
She always broke the noodles when she made it.
She developed a fear that everything would boil over and catch fire.
That part of the noodles would be too crunchy.
All of it would never fit in the ***.
Her mother always broke the noodles so it just became habit.
In the same breath.
She told me at least once,
That she'd like to twirl the noodles around the fork.
The complete taste and feel of what makes it spaghetti.
The cheese blending into the sauce.
The big ball of noodles just wrapping around the fork waiting to be bit.
When I asked about the meatballs she laughed,
She was vegetarian

The sky is blue
The grass is green
Please, state the facts

There are no metaphors
There are no similes
Please, don't go off track

We love evidence
We love research
We love science

Yet, we cast it away
When we get on our knees
For a moment of silence

We adore reality
The fantasy world scares us
But it's a place where we dwell

When we are challenged
When we are afraid
When we can hear the eerie sounds of church bells

We fear reality
We love reality

Her life was magazines
And reality tv.
Selling a far fetched dream.
Her carbs and calories,
She watches so serene
To make the silver screen.

The price tag so obscene,
Weighs heavy on her mind.
And it dug out all of her insides
Til she was a ghost in a shell.

Since she was just fourteen.
She had nothing but dreams
To reach the hollywood scene.
From fame and limousines,
A man boasting a ring,
And everything in between.

The future can't be seen
Weighs heavy on her mind
And it dug out all of her insides
Created her hell.

We hear her crying late at night
Because nothing is going right.

She still hopes and she prays
For the life of a celebrity.
Under the smog of L.A.
The story always replays
Of finding her fantasy.
It slowly drifts away.

There's nothing left to say
It weighed her down
And it dug out everything she was
Now she is just a hollow shell.

A perfect tragedy.

Actuality you dismissed with much grace
As a mirage, your presence swept past
Grazing silky skin, trailing behind no trace
My mind in a trance, with the spell you cast

One moment, your company feels vivid;
Sensing the warmth of your calloused skin on mine
Eyes benign with care, coarse skin so livid;
Heart waltzing, chills pirouetting down my spine

One moment, you swiftly rid your own existence
As if our affection and affinity is no more
You deemed us lovers, even with this distance!
And I blindly believed, to our love I swore

Your unpredictability, I questioned with concern
Are you a figment of my imagination? Or of my reality?
No matter what, my whole being will forever yearn
For you, the Phantom of my most mystified fantasy

Dear ribbons of waterflame,
                       gold, green and blue
                swathes itself around my palms,
                                                            beco­ming
            a ball of radiant waters that floats in
          cupped hands and at the thought of
      love, it buds and curls like a lily's
petal
       and
             the years of hushed times
                  eat at my very soul, nulling
                      deafening me to the music
                             of the mint-dark sky,
                                of the flame-thorn sun
                          of the bone-white stars
                 My feet are kissed by the
            star-studded shores, washing,
       relieving the
  fragments of my shattered
past
I keep the shell of my hope
  shielded
      in my *****, near the heart
        My eyes dancing zultanites
           With my gaze on the horizon
                   rise the clouds of trouble
                    How long will I plan to thrive
                  when I am but a shrinking violet
            cold, iced with scorn
          but
       I am the Mistress of Waterflame
    Daughter of the Mers
and
  Scion of the Dragon Line

     So blood will bend and billow
         like flowers
            So fits the one of the skies and sea
             An expert who delivers in
        the trade of
    death


But the hope in my ***** pulses
      As my bloodlust evulses


                As I dream of the warmth that will soothe my weary