Heart heavy and hard as stone
Swore she’d never be alone
Wore the stone around her neck
Made every man a nervous wreck

He left a letter on the dresser
addressed to whom it may concern.
It read "Never falter under pressure
before the tides can take their turn.
Everything is dying -
The likes of man and all his pleasure.
From paper planes we're flying
to the wooden chests of treasure.
But one Truth will always stand
long after the last word here is spoken:
There's always been a heavenly hand
to heal the heart that's broken."

He stumbled to the edge of town
and fell into the water’s rough -
held all his breath while going down
till there was none to come back up.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

She had a
sailor's mouth,
pretty lips,
and lots of flaws
for me to fix.  

And she wore them
all in front of me
like a fur coat
with the collar up.

We swore we'd run it
till the wheels fell off
and when they did,
(because they always do)
we concluded that bad things
happen to good people.

But we were wrong
and justifiably so -
for who could stand against
the arrogance of youth?

And now that the enamel has
long been worn from our teeth
and vibrance faded like the
hues of our hair, we stand corrected:
For each renders his own suffering.
Some to bring us up..
Some to tear us down,
but it's all for the good of things.  

It was given by God that a man
should suffer for his own actions,
but not for demise, cynical observer,
but that he should learn and become.

What I wanted to say
remains confined inside
a bitter heart broken
by what could've been -
held captive by a mere
mention of the weather.

There was no good ending.
No "happily ever after".
No redemption in our story.
We were just a childish love
driven by infatuation.

What we called "love" was
carried away by the
butterflies in our bellies.
What we called our "future"
has faded with all the
pleasant memories of us-
And now it's like it never
happened.. it was all
fabricated and fantasized
like the words I wanted to say.