Poetry runs through our veins. Meant for cold hearted people, whose hearts are covered up with stains.
Until pure love is the only thing on this planet that rains.

My Mother, always in her own little world.
Never there to listen.
What she didn't see or hear, never was.

She never seemed happy.
Never had the love she needed.
Her three husbands, all a disappointment.
They never gave her the love she so craved.

Always looking for something that would never be.
So many times I wanted to say, what's wrong?
but she was always  in her own little world.
She never heard a word I said.

I wanted to know things, I wanted to tell her things.
but she was never here, safe in her own little world.
I learned very fast how to go where she went,
she was a very good teacher.

Her belief was, what you don't see or hear,
can't hurt you or it just never was.
Everything was a secret,
don't tell, never tell, was her motto.

I think about her and I get very sad.
To the day she died, there was no love.
I loved you, Mother.
You just didn't hear me.

I have loved you before this life.
I love you now and forever.
I will love you again.

Never a regret
Through time, never ending.
Again and Again, my love.

She was my best friend, my everything
We went everywhere together.
We would go on adventures, some
exciting, some dangerous but always fun.
What would we find this time?
Green eyes and brown eyes
all aglow with mystery and excitement.

Buffy was the listener and silent,
always in thought, always there for me.
I would always do the talking, I could
tell her anything, she was never my judge.
When I was sad, she would sit with me.
When I cried, she was there, her head tilted
as though she understood the depth of my pain.

But then she would know exactly when to jump
up and be my little clown!  She made me smile and
then laugh until my stomach hurt and the tears were
happy ones, once again.  She knew me so well,
every mood, sad, happy,fearful, she knew them all.
We could never be separated, not ever.

One day she looked at me and told me with such pain,
that I would have to make a decision of love for her.
She told me with her beautiful brown eyes, that she
must leave me and I must let her go.

She looked into my eyes with such love and asked
for my help. She said she couldn't do it herself,
"This is where you must make the decision to help me go."
Buffy my friend, I love you with all my heart and
that is why I can help you go in peace and dignity.

I held her to the very end, my tears never ending.
I felt her little spirit leave, her little body went limp.
And to the heavens she went. I know she is with me,
always watching over me.  I know she sent me
a very special friend like her, to make my pain
a little easier.

Now that special friend is looking at me and asking,
when it gets too painful, will you be there for me?
Oh God!  Why did you make their lives so much
shorter then ours?  Dog backwards is God, they
were graced with that special name.

Buffy Fly high, my little clown
Be ready to show my boo boo,
the way to the rainbow bridge.
Mommy, loves you.

Shot follows shot.
Drinks on drinks.
Baccardi courses through my bloodstream.
I'm drowning in ***** and in my memories of you.  
And the acid burning its way to my stomach,
Is easier to handle than the hollow feeling when I'm sober.

Before them, we already had those nicknames,
I was already your moon,
And we were already the best.

Then I turned into your everything as you have said.
They started using what we already had.

While they did, we lost ours.
We didn't use them anymore for so long we forgot them.
And I miss being those things to you.
If being your everything means things being like this then take me back—take me back when our love was at its best,
take me where our love started.
When it was innocent, exciting yet passionate.

Let me feel that old love
*Show me, tell me, feel me.

How do we slowly die again and again and again?
How do we seperate from ourselves repeatedly?
Why do my tears never feel new?
They're the same every week, every few days.
Maybe my love isn't enough.
Maybe my motives are lost.
Maybe I'm letting go.
Maybe my thoughs are wandering to parts they dont belong.
When have my intentions ever been wrong?
Why do I feel so sad about us?

I was young and full of innocence. The world seemed perfect, a playground at my fingertips. Magic was real and fairytales came true. I didn't have to worry about how I feel or how to cure the blues. With that view of the world I felt limitless. I became older and age stole my innocence.