Your love was not true.
Only a lie,
given on a beautiful plate of roses,
but I ripped them all
and shattered the plate
and killed love.
I lied about it.
But you lied first.

Our love was built on friendship too deep.
It was beautiful,
and so was the love I felt.
So I was deceived
By something inside me screaming
and yearning
to jump free.
Free of pain and darkness.
But that only was the cause of your suffering.

Was what you told me real?
Where the tellings you said of love a reality,
Or were they just
something to say
in the emptiness
that we were so afraid of.
Were you afraid of me?
Scared of the death I told.
Scared of the loneliness and darkness my heart spoke of?

I never meant for this to be the way of ending.
You told me we would talk,
as friends,
as best friends.
But I was lied to.
A lie as beautiful as roses,
on a golden, carved plate.
But you cut the roses in half.
And threw away the plate
and forgot.

I kept the pieces.

I watched you cry.

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

you stole my light
when i told you to stop
and you ignored my red light
and kept going
like my body was undiscovered land
and you were a colonizer.
perhaps my asking you to stop
turned you on
made you hungry.
you looked at me with your hungry eyes
like i was fresh meat
for you to take and have for yourself
ignoring my stop signs
cries
screams
because i am nothing more
than an object to you
made for your manipulation and pleasures.

These halls seem somewhat hollow
A certain sense of sorrow
Now graces ancient stone.
Replacing familiar faces
With defaced family paintings
And cold ancestral bones.
Thrones thrown upon a pyre.
Fate becomes the folly
Tomorrow the unknown,
The brows of time are furrowed
Past spent, lost, or borrowed
Flowers forever bloom alone.
Rats, the last lords of ruin
Rule cruel shadows from the walls.
Twilight sighs at daylight's rise
All seems dark till darkness falls.

I grab an old Ramones t-shirt
I look for a pair of jeans to match.
looking down to search through the pile of clothes on my floor.
My eye catches the corner of a card she made for me.
A beautiful drawing of a flower.
Hearts and a small paragraph explaining her love.
The love that went cold
and unresponsive.
Sometimes I still miss the girl who broke my heart
and shattered it
over and over.
I see the pants and set them on the shirt.
I will wear this outfit tomorrow

You once told me
I always looked uptight.
We sat together under the tree
yet I felt it would be alright.
I felt uneasy when it was said,
but brushing it off was fine.
Somehow I still felt we were dead
and my heart wanted to whine.
And cry
with sorrow.
For I
will no longer see you tomorrow,
Because as I said,
Our love was dead.