I suppose
if I could metamorphose
Into a new skin
with wings
and a bigger brain

I would.

I contemplate
that this fate
may not be
the best for me.

And yet

I wait

I will grow
and cocooned in the modern american sheen
Dream of wings
miles away
from an airport or two
across the bay
they wave
from boys in areoplanes

I know
there is great green valleys for me
with deciduous trees
and anemones
and bears that ski
on their big fluffy bellies
in the shadow of some upthrust rockface

I beat
the drum of ****** life
and think the heavy drought of thought
and drink
the steaming heat of dreams

I knew
when I was a zygotic mass
imbibed with life
and stolen with soul

That I would be
The best ****** butterfly
You'll ever see.

I care too much

Or maybe love too much

Or maybe trust a little too much

And it doesn’t hurt

Until it’s too late

When I look back

And got nothing from them

When they took

More than I gave

More than I wanted

More than I expected..

We're only made to take so much;
the sand runs out, the hour's up.
For some, one life is not enough
to take advice yet give back love.

Some live to take; their hands are rough,
their blood is blue, their minds are tough.
Though they are humans just like us,
the seat fits two, still they won't budge.

We don't mind though, 'cause we can stand
but they still shoot us off fair land
and laugh and lie and watch us run,
then claim that they're the injured ones.

Drunk on love we couldn't see
that kindness only fuelled their greed.
For lies sleep sound under their tongues
and rot 'til teeth become golden.

Their shadows cast two different shades.
They twist and turn in makeshift shapes.
Feast at my table. Eat my brain.
For after all, we give, you take.

Robbers take what we hold dear, not only materialistic things. You broke the typical robber stereotype.

I don’t want to close my eyes anymore. I’m afraid I might find you - again. Robbers don’t necessarily come in the dark. I can still see my reflection in your eyes, pleading. My whole outlook on people changed. I don’t want to see anymore. You robbed me of my sight.

My skin is a living paradox. It is hot to the touch, because of bottled up anger, yet it is cold. It is cold where your fingers once danced graciously over me, like a dancer gliding over the floor. You never told me you could dance. I now refuse to touch my own skin. It doesn’t feel the same anymore. You took my sense of touch when you left.

We went for strawberry milkshakes when we met, just before... Strawberry milkshakes were my favourite. Notice the past tense? I want to confront you about what you did, but I cannot face you. I tried calling to no avail. The words burned in my throat and I became mute. I ended up not saying anything at all. Strange, my voice and my sense of taste left with you.

I can still smell you beside me - roses and regret. I try to avoid roses now. I bought a bouquet out of spite, in a desperate attempt to get back at you in some crazy way. I destroyed it. Nothing came of this, except the realisation that I cannot bare the smell of roses. My sense of smell was taken away by you.

I still hear your voice echoing in my thoughts. The sweet nothing’s you whispered. You were right when you said that nobody will know about this. You were wrong when you said that it wouldn’t hurt, because I’m still in pain. I cannot even listen to certain voices anymore. The more your voice echoes in my mind, the more my hearing fades away. You stole my hearing.

Robbers can be charged with breaking and entering. Why can’t you? Isn’t a lack of consent exactly the same? A simple guy like me, could never trust a woman ever again. You are a robber, and you robbed me of my senses.