If we were more like ourselves
How long could we keep up this act?
Dodging each other,
Only saying meaningless "Hellos"
And questions,
Never pausing to stop and actually
Think,
Feel,
Take the time to know someone,
Who they truly are,
Deep down,
And then
Pause.

So they know that they aren't the only one there.

Its hard to give up
On a love
That was never yours.

I felt the impact of
Jumping into the unknown cavern of
Trust,
Not knowing how hard
And broken it would be.

My voice was a silent scream in the wind.

If I were a word yesterday,
They would be about
"Pain"
or
"Lost."
Feeling "trapped" in a
World who knows how to "punish" the
"Weak."
I would see how I have gone "unseen" and
"Ignored" by the ones who "hate" me best.
But that was "yesterday."

If I were a word today,
It would simply be
"Happy."

The truth is that I love you, and that
I always will. Helpless and hopeless
romantics dream of love like this. For
the longest of times, I dreamt of the
perfect lover. I wondered how much
sweeter life would be if I found myself
in the arms of the man I love. The longer
I waited and every mishap along the way
led me straight to you. I, now, yearn for
the passionate kisses you place upon my
lips. I live for your steady breaths that
give my restless soul peace. Hearts like
yours are the reasons why I remained a
believer.  Your warmth never goes astray,
and your faith gives me strength. Although
each heart withholds the same amount of
adoration, theirs will never be like yours.

I looked for temporary satisfation when your love
was absent. I understand it may be selfish of me
but waiting for its return is like waiting for the last
autumn leaf to make way to the earth -- the beauty
of summer fades, and Mother Nature loses her youth
as the arms that reach the heavens slowly die.

Truthfully, one could not forget intimate kisses shared
in silence, and the voice that has resonated in the mind
as the sweetest lullaby. If only it was possible to find joy
within the pain. Although laughing at such misery could
ease a weary heart, the perfect love still has too strong of
a hold to let go of the affection it has received.

He told her he was the sky,
That he owned the stars,
And the sun, his eye.
She laughed,
Smiling at his ocean eyes,
And knew that he was truthful.

Now she looks up and sees the face
Of the one she first loved.

It still hurts when I think of your name.