I loved you once.....I think,
when the stars were ours 
and the wild in me yearned for the calm in you.

I was naivety looking for movie love amongst preened egos.
Searching, desperate to believe the
"you complete me" ******* consumed by numbed masses.

I stood in white silk at Gods altar,
Satan played the march with pride
as the choir abandoned all hope of hallelujah's.
While others dried tears in cheap motel rooms.

We exist now only in other realms
and never for eachother.
Mine a fortress of  bitter ink and paper
white as the inner thighs of the strangers you seek.
Yours an alcohol daze.

I like it that way, apathy mine to keep, distant guilt yours to cherish.
Wedded bliss staged and scripted,
sweet love squandered.

We wear our masks so well

How foolish of me
To think that love was more important
Than happiness

It’s hard
Cause I’ve been there and I’ve felt it
But it’s okay
Because I’ll be there again and I’ll feel it again
Just in a different way

I made a list of the things I need
And it’s only ten lines long
You were almost all of them
Except for the very first one

I let myself skip over the first line
And didn’t even know
I saw you for how wonderful you are
Not knowing butterflies wouldn’t grow

Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

How wistful looks the beautiful rose
Carefully trimmed for a royal pose;
In fate of lofty praise
The blessed soul wails for days.

Yet how peaceful seems the wild orchid
That blossomed in the land so arid;
While seeking a lone passerby’s
careless look it is destined.