The one she wants is gone
Taken by death.
No one left
She had to learn
The cries she can’t get enough of
So empty, so choked up
Water clogging her so she can’t breathe
Sinking everyday trying to continue to live
Can she live?
The bitterness, the sour tears
She wishes she were here
Somewhere she can go to feel again
Someone to listen and understand
Somebody to help her feel warm
She cries a sea of tears
Tears that fill up her room
She can’t breathe any longer
She wants to feel the warmth again
Can she?
All she’s got is her grave
She can’t respond.
Death awaits, she doesn’t know what she feels
Feeling numb, dead
Dead before dead
People say to choose happy
But, how can she do that when she is broken like a vase that’s shattered
How can you mend a broken vase?
Again she’s alone like always.
Always, always.

She’s my sunshine
She’s my love
She’s my fighter
My inner peace, my dove

She’s my supporter
She’s my answer
She’s my listener
I couldn’t live without her

She’s my protector
She’s my inspiration
She’s my forgiver
Yeah, she’s a sensation

She’s my healer
She’s my new day
Without her
I wouldn’t be who I am today

Everyone wants to be loved and be in love.
Don't they?

The person they can trust with their life,
with every small piece of them.
To be accepted completely,
even with all the chips and scratches they may have.

To wake up every morning and think of them,
only to fall asleep at night with them on their mind.
To be filled with a warmth that cannot be explained,
when they are held or touched by their partner.

This pull to want to be near them as much as possible,
and that they never leave.
The smile that makes its way onto their face,
as they listen and talk with their partner.

These things and many more,
make up what someone might feel when in love.
I, however,
do not.

I used to,
but now these feelings are just left empty.
This sense of something missing,
always brings me to wonder.

Am I really in love?
Am I really being loved?
Is this what love feels like after a while?
Is this what being loved feels like after a while?

I will find out at some point...
But no matter what:
Everyone wants to be loved and be in love.
Don't they?

Little puppet was made
Like a fairy angel in shade
She was dressed in pink
And so was named Rosy in ink
Lime was her taste
Ants were her mates
Littering was her weakness
Loitering was her meanness
Eyes are red with blue *****
Life are blue with red falls
Ocean chiseled her heart
And purgation baked her to frost.
Now time has come for her
To let go off what is not hers.
But still the sculpture is busy
And her emotion is again in fussy.