She looks into my eyes
as if searching for my feelings
for a hint of my disposition today
can’t she tell by the softness of my voice
the sweet things I say
can’t she sense my love  
in these moments together
or
are we both really alone
and this union a figment?

It is as if she is wondering
in her little mind behind her amber eyes
what it is like being human
as I wonder what is like being feline.

Up-Skirting?
    
  No Actually,
Wainscotting!

Somber lie the hills
o'er which my Sally flies.
Darkness clothes the mills,
and creeps by every corner.
Crimson fills the springs,
where once children drank --
like them, I choke
and struggle to speak,
and I sit in the company
of pleasant nature.
I watch bitterly
as the trees grow:
they know nothing of my sorrow,
nor how I have toiled.

Taunting, their gaze peers
down at me from above,
and the crest of every wave,
lit by the dawn.
Oh, if I could be with her:
my pride, my love!
Contently I would
spend my days abroad.
But since she is lost, I fear,
and the cruel wind
kisses me in her stead,
I wish at least to return
to my native land, so dear,
where among those quiet meadows
I would rest my head.

You're all laughing and
splashing in the shallows, jump
in and out as you
so please.
My legs are stone, my feet
are roots, I sway
with the currents, I soak
in the brine and choke
on the salt.

The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.

Like lightning in the distance,
you're a force I can't grasp,
can't fear nor admire.
I yearn to feel a zap,
a jolt of reality,
but I'm still standing under this lonely tree.

I've been searching for something like you,
and it seems like every time I catch a glimpse
I watch it vanish within the whisper of the wind.
It's like it never happened.

But it did.

I lay in bed
with someone who tells me
"you never give yourself up to love."
It kills me to admit
she's the most real thing I've ever had,
but the left side of the mattress
could just as soon
hold a vacancy I've always known.

The thunder calls out from the night sky,
and the clouds conceal those diamonds above.

I stare at a computer screen
wondering whether or not to pierce through the guarded unknown.
Some call it closure.
Some call it the path to pain.
I close the tab and find something else to dwell on.

It's just a name,
a title.
It's not like I'm the only one who feels this way.
But we all know you don't need to be isolated to feel alone.

Shortly before becoming the same,
I'll understand the difference between a storm
and a passing rain.
One day I may be the lightning,
cradling the thunder
and light the way through the clouds.

Until then,
I'll lay under this tree
and watch its leaves get carried off by the wind.