Getting that feeling that you don't  exist and
You're  not in the room before he looks at you.

When he touches your hand
Or he makes you smile.
You know you are safe and you will be together, but only for a while.

Getting home and taking a long bath;
Thinking about life and the past.
How you cheated on me with your pride.

Suddenly!
You come in and we collide.

As i am thinking;
"Even though I don't; want to love"
You climbed in to the bathtub.

Sitting naked infront if you.

You have all you clothes on while you kiss me.
You pull me closer and tell me never again;
you will love me till the world's  end.
Three months past and you are at it again!

On the beach,
lying on the sand.
With grains brushing through my hair.

I see how the lion plays between the stars.
I hear how the waves dance together,
and imagine the sweet melody that reminds me of you.

For a small time I thought I was one piece of a puzzle,
but then...
Your fingers touch myne.

I turn around,
and look in to your bright nox caelo eyes.

Alas, I fall -
I fall all over again.
In to your arms.

There on that moment we sail the night away
and all I am yearning for is that very moment.
Hoping you will stay.
Hoping those minutes will never sail away...

Does the sight of me make you go crazy?
Does my kisses still turn you on baby?

Do you still feel the same?
Do you still love it when I call out your name?

I'm homesick for your touch,
for the way you used to look at me,
for the way you kissed my forehead and told me that you loved me.

Im homesick for what we used to be.

This morning I arised next to you.
Your snoring was loud,
but you sounded like the sweet melody of a purring cat.

I know this is irrational, baseless and unsound,
but I love the sound of your purring, and the way you sound when you laugh.
I love the way you look when you sleep and how your eyes glow when you are happy.
So peaceful.

This morning as I play with your hands;
as I brush your hair;
as I glide my fingers over your arms just as the sunlight brushes your skin.
All I can think of is that this is what I want and what I have been longing for.

I want you, not just in a sensual way:
I've been completely and utterly consumed by you.
I never want this moment to end,
I will never get enough of you.

I want to root myself with you and grow with you.
I want to develop and bloom.
In the end I want us to be a beautiful red rose with the sun shining over us just like this deep blue, bright Sunday morning.

I know this is illogical and senseless,
but what is love other than that.
Just like I am consumed by you
so has my logic been consumed by your love,
but the one cannot live without the other.

I am lost inside my mind.
Staring at the stars at night.
Hoping that they can read my cards.
Hoping they can find what's s wrong with me in the inside.

Monster running wild in my mind,
I can't t silence them.
Not tonight.

Why can't anybody see I'm m not the person I wish to be.

The only thing you see is my smile,
but you are blind.
You cannot see how lost I am inside my mind.

My own mind cannot lie to me.
My nightmares have become a reality.
Monsters everywhere and they look like my anxiety,
but all you see is the way I beam.
You cannot see I'm m without my gleam.

Someday when we are old
and no longer look like Gold;
when we are sitting in wheelchairs
in a garden full of roses -
There we will reminisce about our life
and how times have changed.

There we will think about the one
morning that we woke up together,
the love we made;
and the passion of a thousand traditions we betrayed.

There we shall think about
our Life and its glory,
the morning star and our fairytale story.

There we shall think of each other
before the time comes to pass and has ended.
In the garden full of roses we shall remember how we spent it.

Feeling lonely.
Feeling miserable.
Feelings of despair.

Giving and not receiving is one of an odd pair.
Not knowing what's wrong,
not knowing what to do.
It's like a white dove without it's coo.

Then comes an epiphany, a slight realisation if I may:

Love is kind.
Love grace.
Love is the one who gives you space in a strange place.

But one cannot live without love and for not having love is for not having peace nor air to breathe.

My love I give to you so you can breathe even if I have lost my heart underneath.
My love is like Roars of lions.
You I love with passionate silence.

Playing piano in the parlour
Looking out to the habour.
The wind is blowing the waves
and the stars are gleaming in space.

On this particular wintry night :

You were leaning against the wall
Staring at me with that charming glow,
and all Im thinking is;
The song I heard on the radio.

"I looked out this morning and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
I lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes and I skipped away"

You come sit next to me
and start playing.
You look in to my eyes
and say that you are staying.

My heart is yearning for your voice
The piano keeps on playing.

Imagine a purple butterfly floating and suddenly landing on your hand:

Ownership will squash the butterfly not because of hate, but because of love.
The butterfly then dies and fades away.

Fear will let the butterfly sit on its hand,
and just because of being insecure they will let the butterfly fly away.
They dont want to try.
They are scared the creature wont stay.

Love shields the butterfly from the wind.
It will shield it and doesnt care whether it flies away.
If the butterfly appreciates love,
the purple butterfly will stay.

Be like love.
Have confidence to give love and not wonder whether they will stay or not
because you are worthy of love even if you think you are not.

After that day
an indignant feeling came over me.
How unfair it is :
That some monsters are real and some aren't
And majority of them are those whom you cannot haunt.

Some people have them and some don't,
but i presume that's how life flaunts.

Their voices.
Their breaths.
All cold and warm at the same time.
All alive and dead.
All that I bred.

But then again without them the silence grows.
I need my monsters to feel free
Without them i am just me.

Hey you!
Getting cold,
Getting old.
Standing in the darkness
All lonesome looking like
Mold.

Having no food,
No water.
Not even a blanket to have soft sweet slumber.

Don't  you worry,
Don't  you cry.
The darkness will sing you a lullaby.

In the summer burning in the sun;
Looks like hell to everyone
In the winter freezing to death
but no one cares, they are either blind or deaf.

You getting cold,
With no blanket
All lonesome with a teddy bear to behold.
And only memories of love is your mother singing "you are gold".
~ S.H.