at the end of the afterlife,
when the dust finally settles,
she climbs into a warm bed
made of soft, wispy clouds,
listening to lilting melodies,
from her childhood memories,
falling into a peaceful slumber.

Soft as clouds of tranquility,
flowing with notes of sweet melodies.
This pipe of mine's an escape from reality.
Music never sounded so heavenly.
Dreams are exhaled from the life
     of my lungs.
Faintly they're heard, in whispers they're sung,
with the chiming of bells, distantly rung.
My heart know's the words.
    It just can't teach my tongue.

My birds,
a winsome kaleidoscope of colour and sound
I stand within myself in my clearing, a tiny, circular garden
filled simply with encroaching trees and
a circle of pale concrete underfoot

Marred only
with snaring daisies, quiet
allure, and I take the time to romance the colours I behold so dearly
as they swim through my blurred, jarring vision and as I
melt wholly into the river beside me.

My garden is the only good left in this world
especially now that I have left it.

But it is a peaceful sadness.
There is no anger and
I am no longer at war with myself.
The battlefield is barren,
the weapons have been laid rest
and all the soldiers have gone home.

People say he doesn't say much
they offer words to fill the silence
condolences between the aisles
but they don't understand
they don't understand

He wants everything
or nothing
offer him death
offer him life
but never love

People say he doesn’t look too good...these days
they offer words to describe his pain
he looks sad, he looks exhausted...these days
but they don't understand

It is what it is
we both know how the story goes
you'll never be happy
but you'd be satisfied
seeing where life takes me
but my road leads back to you

offer me death
offer me life
but all I want is your love
nothing else
nothing more
but you don’t understand
you don’t understand