You......a lover of words
Painting pictures with each syllable
Evoking feeling with every click of the keyboard.
Yet you will not feel or hear the words of mine.
How angry I am with you.

I've been dreaming about you again.
The outline of your lips telling me your thoughts in unspoken words.
Funny how they’ve never touched.
Yet I wake and feel the remnants of your kiss.

A tortured artist’s muse, an abstract concept that could never truly be defined. Though, they tried. Aspiring Picasso’s came like passerby’s, setting up their easels, trying to capture the essence of a moment. An ever changing scenery in constant flux. A single clip of time, forever evading the masterpiece. There was only ever a beginning, as frustrations with the unrelenting storm tore the portrait to the ground with each passing breeze. They failed to see the beauty in starting each day with a blank canvas, always determined to brush every stroke perfectly into place before the sun set. The love for the view was lost, so desperate to embody it completely they forget to appreciate it entirely, as layers of color paint a picture of indifference. But tell me Pablo, would you label the bird as callous for wanting to leave the branch...or would you gaze with the all the wonder of life watching it flap its wings?

It's the days when you don’t cry,
But you don’t smile either.

It’s the days when you’re quieter than usual,
And people notice.

It’s the days when you aren’t quite thinking about anything.

But if someone asked you what was wrong,
You wouldn’t know where to start.

I shant go into much detail about the who the why or the when
Nor do I care to discuss the them the there or the then
What I can tell you is there is no nothing and that everything is something
To someone maybe not you, that something is somewhat wanting
Perhaps you may have heard about the elephant that lives up the street
Not a very popular girl because for an elephant she's got small feet
Well as it was or should have been to be sure I really can't say
That elephant was just about the finest thing that lived back in her day
Sure she's not much to look at now but now tell me have you considered the feet
There was a time and it was hers where she danced with every song she'd meet
She moved like smoke through their fingers and so many would lose their grip
Say the wrong thing or just run out of time and from out of their lives she'd slip
And then time left her scattered and broken and she grew fat off misery
Now she just hums and wanders around wondering how could it be
See we all have a time, a place, and a thought that is not what could have been
We all have a moment, a turn, or a chance to turn what is now to then
To step back from the world around us and ask ourselves a question
Do we want to be to someone an answer or just another suggestion