Take me to a vast and open field and with my last elegy being read, release my ashes as you set me free, free in death, to run with the wind.  No, tears you will not cry - at least not tears of death; but cry for me tears of birth.  Like a new born emancipated from the womb taking its first breath, I will be liberated to take breaths elsewhere.


Tell him.  Tell him that I loved.  Tell him that I loved, if not only him.  Tell him I tried to find the words, I tried.  But I soon found there wasn't enough songs to sing, nor enough words to write and then, never enough time.  Tell him, I became impatient for more time, and then impatient with the time I had.


I want to be buried under a moonlit sky, with only the whistle of the trees’ silence, with no words spoken as I spoke them all before.  Write no words too, as those letters will never tell the stories that we've already told.  Cry, you will not, at least not from my words; and least not from our words.
In her ear whisper.  

In her ear whisper that no matter what, I will stand at her side.  Tell her, my mother dear, the whisper she hears will be mine.  Tell her the whistling of the trees in the silence, with no words said, will be me.  Tell her to take me to a vast open field, so my last elegy can be read, and to spread my ashes with the wind.  Tell her there, to set me free.

You called yourself a failure because you chipped a finger nail.
That’s when I knew I needed so much more than you;
and you needed so much less of me.

"And you,
my dear lady,
are the poem.
I just give it voice."

Unable to hold back my tears, as I packed a suitcase. 'Why are you leaving? This just makes no ******* sense!' You are yelling, taking things out of the suitcase, as I put them in. I have to admit, it made no sense. None whatsoever. I am in love with you. There is no doubt in my mind about that, and have been since that first day you spoke to me. I knew that I wanted to marry you even before our first date. When I’m with you, when I’m holding you in my arms, when I’m kissing your lips, when I’m close to you, my world is complete. And that is the issue, without you, I am not whole. I am not free.

But I don’t say any of that. It wouldn’t help you to understand any better. Instead, I close my suitcase, and leave the house, our house, knowing that I’m leaving behind things I will never recover, and drive off hoping that I can make myself complete without you.

You tell me to keep singing,
I am. 'Without words, there’d be no songs.'  I made that.
Listen to my sweet, sweet blues,
my high, high reds, and my low, low browns.
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.

You tell me to keep singing,
And I tell you, I am.  Tell me, what would you like to hear?
Do you want to turn my blues into red, my red into blues,
and for me to have no colours in-between?
To turn me into you?

You tell me to keep singing,
I am singing.  I’ve never stopped.
You’ve just stopped listening.

Some day people will ask, 'what inspires you the most?' I will turn, look at you, and without having to say one word, they all will know my answer.

Each day for 40 years, he asked her to marry him, and on each day for 40 years, she said ‘yes’.

She once asked him, ‘after 40 years of marriage, why do you still ask?’

‘Just in case you’ve changed your mind,’ he replied, ‘just in case, you’ve changed your mind.’