If you could see her face again,
free from burden, free from pain,
your eyes would meet; your face would smile
Blue meets green, its been a while.

Your parting words would come to mind,
for she has taken time to find.
What will you stroke first? Her face? Her hair?
In this moment, there's no time to spare.

You'd try to memorise every line of her face,
every curve, every crease, eager to trace.
But is a moment enough, is her kiss bittersweet?
When you are forced to part, do you feel incomplete?

A lover's chance is a cruel thing indeed,
you'll see her again but your heart will still bleed.
Both Fate and Time twisted into one evil grin,
delighted and dancing in the wake of the sin.

Yes, a lover's chance is a cruel, flightless bird,
the cry of the lover scarcely heard.
Never passed on, the fear of chance missed,
desperate to once again feel lost love's kiss.

There was a time when each drop of her tear fell on my shoulder
Each paragraph of hers started with me and ended with me
I was her hapiness and I was her sadness
Now I hear there are different characters to entertain her evenings and me ??? Well me ,now I am just the forgotten character of her story !!!

wrote you love letters for 8 years and on the 8th I said I was done. I know one day someone will fall in love with you, but never with all of you.
I did that.
One day it'll be someone else's turn to rub their fingers across your forehead while you dip in and out of sleep. You'll sigh,
You'll say " Iove you" but you'll be caught off guard when it's not my voice that doesn't say " I love you too" I am lost love, for all my lovers.

I would find the rainbow's end
To reclaim lost treasures
That went missing over my many years.

Some, mere sparkle a crow might crave;
Others, minor shadows in Plato's cave.
In some kind of after life,
Will I find my gold penknife?

I lost it on Easter Sunday:
Jake flashed it on John's jacket;
From nape to back bottom *****,
He sliced the new dress coat in half.
My penknife vanished,
Like the invisible mend.

I miss my pubescent chums,
When imagination was all the fun.
But really, we would look askance,
Not actually sure of a come-by-chance.

Youth got lost, slipped off my face;
I got distracted, it got replaced.

Friends and family have gone,
And with them took
Their share of treasures.

Should you, my dears,
Be lost, I will find you,
Everywhere.
In albums, jewelry boxes,
Closets and cushions.
I'll search the last place first.

a song about me but mostly you,
it's a shame, I cant share it.
for you're not a rose but oleanders,
it was always my fault, too late for sorry
I'm sorry.
you already knew how I feel.
him, like the white noise of military submarines at 03:28,
the main character is never a villain my little inferno.
this one was written for a different life's you and I. not you and me.
still, my skull blooms to bouquets. thorned flowers. fed with sugar water and brandy.
overgrown my mixtape seeping to my throat, I'll hear when my skins clear and I'm lean.