My love,
You are in pain,
You can't hear me through the glass doors,
Nor does my hand touch yours,
- To comfort you (and me), momentarily, in vain
Thankfully, thoughts are not bound,
By these physical dependencies of expression,
You are with me,
In these thoughts,
In all the music,
Your gorgeous smile, like the wallpaper of my head,
Keeping me going,
My darling, your body hurts,
As does your mind,
There's not much I can do,
Except hope that you'll find,
My thoughts and love,
Ever present,
A warm blanket over you,
- I hope you feel,
Just a little longer,
And I won't have to steal,
Your smile from photographs,
Your laugh unreal,
A little longer,
A little longer,
Vacant eyes will shine,
Empty hearts will overflow,
Just a little longer, my love,
Through the clouds we'll see a rainbow

You are everything,
That I have chosen to make you

I close my eyes,
And you're here,
Lying next to me,
We're playing with each other's fingers,
It escalates to a thumb wrestle,
We're laughing,
Tickling each other, hands all over,
Laughing, giggling, happy,
Your head resting on my stomach,
My fingers running through your hair,
And you fall asleep,
I open my eyes

We are but two roses in the same vase
sharing the same water
same light,
but our leaves never again touching.
You've grown colder
we've grown apart
separated yet together dying.

Tell me, why do we, roses, die so easily?

Our scents fading,
but our thorns getting sharper
in a world where all the flowers bloom
we are the ones to be wilting.

Tell me, why does the moonlight darken our colours?

I know
I will love you with all my thorns
and with my fading shades
until the last petal will fall
until the sun upon me
will stop shining.

*Tell me, why is there blood on your thorns
and why is my heart leaking?

A kiss for a every tear,
A hug for every fear,
A hand to hold always,
An iced tea for hot days,

I can't offer you the stars,
They wouldn't do much for your scars,
I can't promise everything will be okay,
But I assure you one thing - I will always stay

We cannot take
a good, hard look
at ourselves
without help;
our own perception
a fun-house mirror,
twisting our foibles
into grotesques.
We become too big,
thinking we loom large
in the lives of others
who could not care less,
or we shrink into nothing,
disappearing from those
who miss us dearly.
Judge, jury and executioner,
we condemn ourselves
as not worthy of the air we breathe.
We cannot take
a good, hard look
at ourselves.
The look is rarely good,
and often far,
far too hard.