I wear garments
made of different stories
I mix and match
things that have happened
with things that have never happened
I combine what will happen
with  what will not happen
words flow in a totally different medium
in a totally different world

The woman in red is waiting for love
                                        blood red love

Ruby, the woman in a red dress
a dress of passion and blood
                                       blood red love

They would call her mad
                             how sad
Ruby owned her story of love
                                      blood red love
passion, pain, and loneliness

Ruby "the insane"
for those
who do not own their own stories
and don't ever truly love
Nobody ever waits for love for anyone, anymore
                                        blood red love

each time
she opened
the box
to find
and release hope
another evil
came out.

bats come on to play soaring through the air when dark
and owls hunt at night
my mind chases all the lost memories of you
and traces pop out brightly
under the fall of darkness

Honoring you each day and night with my immense sorrow
"my tears" is a tribute song to our love
and my aching heart is the statue of a you-less loneliness
I have realized that all the songs, poems, and statues are somehow heartfelt heartaches that I happily enjoyed.

A fear that I had
to lose you
sometimes washed my soul
when I looked into your loving eyes
this fear can no longer dominate
as I have already lost you
now I fear that you will forget
and regret

I cannot see
or change
anything

all my activities,
history,
photos,
and messages
are  gone
and when I die
all my browsing activity
will too be deleted
It feels like
I have borrowed
someone else's life
and living it
for a temporary while
and I just casually browse
don't want  
the rest to be recorded
incognito
just someone