Search me out, look for me sweetly,
My heart is not hard to find, I’ll gladly give you hints,
If only you take the first steps toward me,
No matter how much I like you, I won’t stay here
If you don’t try, solve my mystery,
Draw me out, and see my colors,
Or you’ll never see my beauty.

Perfectly timed moments exist
And with their existence, my sadness persists
I walked out, and he walked in
Our eyes met, it was his win
Every cell in my being began to heat up
And all he could do was try not to **** up
Yet still I ignored my pleaing heart
I sat in my car and drove farther apart
He shrunk in my rearview mirror
I sighed in hopeless terror
What if love will never surpass this limit
What if he's the only man I could love so vivid
All that I hoped for, all that I dreamed
Slowly ripped and torn apart at the seam
How do I overcome this desire to cease life
How do I care about tomorrow's strife

*s.q.

Just leave me alone
can't you?

Let me be.
Just let me be.
Let me mourn and grieve and cry.

I'll be fine.
Not now,

But I will be.

You said you don't know
That's irresponsible.

But how can I blame you
or judge you
or condemn you

When I am in the same insane state.

Time heals
Because it allows memories to fade
Feelings to dilute
Determination to weaken.

But

Time proves
Because love will strengthen
Longings will last
Perseverance will churn.

And at the end of the day,
I will still be into you.

I am waiting
till we turn 30.

When emotions no longer reckless
we seek stability and comfort.

I am waiting
till we unnumb.

When temptations no longer ******
we crave for family and assurance.

I am waiting
till you see

I am waiting.

The end of his strength it comes in a rush
a wildfire burning destroying in lust
the joys of a life are forgotten in turn
passions and trusts that were once so bright
paled to nothingness, haunted remains
they cry in quiet voices, the roaring above
drowning the sorrowful sounds of lost lives
what he was has long since passes through silent halls
of what may have become only ashes that stir
no dormant embers lay hidden to ignited in pain
a fiery expanse, though grey as the burnt sky
an emptiness within and without reflecting each side
the end of his strength it came in a rush

The end of his will it came on but slow
endless dripping of acid on stone
shallow grooves to begin, easy ignored
forgotten within the raging tempest surrounding
then stone is gone and he along with it
the pain long left flows in furious tides
aches from the past, for without his armour
the wounds that will not heal are open to the void
not seen or felt when present, pressures innumerable
with dawning realization, for all things do hurt
the treatment of others as knives in the mind
hurting themselves to pain those loved to hurt once more
cycles of pain of hate of suffering
impacting upon an open soul
and the end of his will did come but slow

The end of his patience came dressed as fury
a relentless glacial desire plunging in anger
sweeping all before leaving naught, torn earth
disguised at rage at this world, this life
screaming in powerlessness for he cannot protect
or any for it is themselves, screaming and crying
in a denial that cannot be expressed in fears
or the red steam of blood shed under cause
only shown in a heart of ice that has suffered enough
scars of loves lost, trusts betrayed marking emotional flesh
twisting the shape of what was once straight, true
a mockery of man seen in sneering lips that did smile
in heavy hands that once caressed ever gentle
memories of life buried in uncompromising overwhelming agony of ice
the end of his patience burning as fury

Darkness creeps in as it ever does on light
until there is naught left but shadows and mists
as rest comes for him with final gasp he breathes
At last, at last.

I'm putting the tea to boil...
finding a spot on the earth in which to sink,
a heart string to play, my mind to think
and untangle a knot of toil
I'm putting the tea to boil

Something warm to come
porcelain cups and waiting lips
hibiscus leaves and rose hips
within the heart a thrum
stirs a ripple in a steeping conundrum

My last verse has gone missing
it’s sound, sans words, lost half in slumber
so half awake, and torn asunder,
by answers hissing then bristling
then comes the awaited harmony of a kettle whistling

We all want to feel like flashing lights
but we're just stained silverware:
rusty, dusty, *****,
old, unappreciated,
hidden deep inside the closet.
We're only good for certain occasions
when we're brought out
handled with care, doused in vinegar
scraping the age of our backs
bringing us into Life, anew.

Yet some sets fit certain settings.
Appetizer? Main Course? Dessert? Dish Washer? Dropped on the floor?
Sometimes none at all because
we can be "made in china"
or from fine china.

And I hated the feeling I got
sitting in the middle of the table like a tuning fork
where everyone was passing food around
and I was just vibrating in their rhythm and sound.
I've been through many sets
much not quite like this.
Still life repeats itself like history
speaking of which, is actually me.

I've been held but never used,
maybe I have but not in the right way.
I was made to look like a fool
and I feel
**just.
that.