I search for the true reflection.
Is it in the mirror or the camera?
Is it in a lover’s eyes or an enemy’s?

I don’t profess to stand on a pedestal,
but I stand on something,
and it seems it’s always something

that knocks me off.
And we may say, I know, I know,
for I have also been there.

I know who she is. I know, I know.
I know the problems she’s facing,
as if we are all wise men.

But it’s becoming clear
that you can only ever walk
in your own shoes.

I met a man in church today, with hair so grey and eyes so old,
I thought to myself "If heaven had secrets, surely this man would know."
We talked for a while, and he spouted wisdom like a stream,
and I pondered what his cryptic advice might mean,
and we left together, out the gilded double doors of the church.

It was cold that day, but the birds still sang, and he remarked that it was so.
He mumbled to himself what would seem ordinary if I did not know
to look for more within his words, and ponder what I had the fortune to hear.
I thought long and hard, until I saw a sight that made it at once so clear.

I met a holy man in church today, and when we left Heaven for the earth below,
the genius opened the wide and gilded double doors, and ****** into the snow.

I thought I forgot you
I thought I long had you buried
Deep in my memory.
I thought you could no longer haunt me
Like you used to do so often.
I thought I got over you
Until your eyes met mine today,
Once or twice at most and that was about it.

I couldn't look at you,
I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears,
So I burst into laughter instead.
And I suppose that you saw through my fake act.
Anyway...

You were there in your corner,
There in your pedestal,
There in your elegance
Drawing something dangerously beautiful
And you were beautifully dangerous.
And I,
I could only watch you from a distance
And learn to admire you
Without touching you,
Without kissing you,
Or ******* you.

We exchanged a conversation
About random things
You know, like
How it took me about an hour
To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me,
How it tragically died,
How I didn't cry when it died...
But I actually did cry when it died...

You looked all right, seriously.
There in your peaceful world
That I no longer was part of.
There in your artistic mind,
There in your capacity to forget,
There in your tendency to break promises,
There in the awful effect you always have on me.

So you said goodbye
Because you had something to go back to.
I said goodbye
Even though I had nothing to go back to.

We parted ways once again,
Me with your drawing pencil in my bag
And you, you my dear, with a piece of me
Inside your pocket.

I remember you once said forever, but you only lied.
I went home,
I went home and cried.


-- Eleanor

Stopping placing me on this pedestal
Of your high expectations.
This pedestal of your high demands
And harsh words in quotations.
Building faster than I can find
My balance on my feet,
Gripping and grasping on to the edge
Not exactly an acrobatic feat.
You construct this column so high
As I struggle to keep up.
So high up here all alone,
And all I want to do is backup.
Please, I'm begging on my knees,
Up here all alone and I feel a lone breeze.
Only the sky up here on this solitary pedestal so tall,
And the higher you place me, the harder I'll fall...