There is a gentle breeze
that whispers through
an open window
it carries poetry from
the high mountains
poetry from the
shepherds lonely nights
it is here where the
isolation is at its sweetest
but when you hear
music and laughter
in the company of
fierce clapping hands
down to the village
you must go …
Clay.M

Alive
Too young to care
Busy with living loud
Born on the wind, my youth flew by
Quickly.

I think I'm cooked,
I feel the ache I longed for.
I'm restless, but I think
I got what I wanted.

I keep checking
and I keep thinking
about you and how you
might be thinking about me.

I don't think there's a future.
I don't think this will be
anything but the ache.
But I guess I never wanted more.

i'm scared that you'd do what you always do
get me on the fence
feigned proclamations of love
that i believe
your little dove

let you come back
just for you to say
'its only for a minute'
and before i can protest
you use me and disappear
leaving only fear, so clear.

why do u fill the gaping darkness inside of me so perfectly
maybe then i'd learn that its all an illusion, certainly.

I try very hard to be good.
At everything.

But often I just want to be happy.
Happiness often feels like the string of a balloon slipping from my fingers.
So close to being captured as I watch it flutter away into the sky.

you knew I was lost,
you took advantage of that.

i had to accept your touch
i had to understand your desire
and your hand on my body
left a mark

i broke into pieces,
with your touch that I can't wash away
and with your face,
which I cannot forget


now am silenced
for the rest of my days