Tea that was once imaginary in the *** is tilted into her gilded, delicate cup.
Thin, like a butterfly's wing, the handle will crumble if  pressure is applied.
"Thank you," she whispers like a lovely little lady to her host, a giant stuffed rabbit.
He is missing a button eye and fluff is foaming out of one of his ear holes.
He nods, and rips a stitch turning away to greet another guest. Her eyes widen.
Fast forward to tye dye and LSD. She is in the mud, covered in rain and ****** fluids,
in a crowd of strangers-turned soul mates, swaying in the vibrations of guitar strings,
thumping palms and fists against rapidly disappearing ground that is no longer solid,
but liquid, Earth, and soon it will all errode until the molten metal core is revealed
and then
all will be one.
Rewind a few lifetimes, pause.
Others are watching from outside a glass cage.
She is inside, curious, observing the observers though aware of  why they stare.
She has a growth on her shoulder, a cyst the size of a sister,
a mini sibling not fully right or grown.
She is a freak for these onlookers, it is her job, duty and fate.
They laugh and grimace as a spot light focuses on her form(s).
She feels numb to the gaiety and exploitation, absent from the popcorn grins
and sticky cotton candy fingers leaving blue prints on her window looking in, so  she can not look out.
Record,
her children all know the moments of her past, the past she never can remember because it wasn't fully her,
but they feel it, in their hair, and their nails and their dreams
that their are their mother's problem.

There was a time
Once...
Long, long ago
(or so now it seems),

That You
Being the elequent (and yet awkward) man that you are,
were the kind of man who (without prompt)
went out of your way to do romantic sort of things.

Hardly were they anything as eleborate as gifting fine jewelry,
or a dozen red roses,
or even boxes of chocolates,
no, no

you were (and perhaps still are),
the kind of man who wrote poems,
who dedicated songs,
who went out of your way to express love
in ways that were not material.

But still so Sincere were the ways in which you expressed yourself,

And although these days seem to have passed from existance (eons ago it seems was the day of their passing)
I do not sit now,
with pen and paper,
to write out complaints of days gone by

For this is a tale of neither joy nor woe.

A Tale not of anger, nor strife,
nor any other strong emotion
that most tales of this sort are written to express.

Perhaps, it is a written account of my curiousity.
of how, as these years have gone by, you have evolved
and I too, have grown with that evolution.

For even though we don't venture out into the world
alone with one another
for we generally take with us friends and loved ones,

And you,
That beautiful, glorious person you are,
have delved deeper into louder, more agressive (and somehow soothing) music,
and have strayed so far from the romantic ballads
that you once used to send to me,

I do not weep for those days,
For even with their death
came a sort of comfort
that I have seldom known before.

It is as though the cute, romantic days of our early love,
blossomed into a love that, words cannot express.

And no amount of Well-worded poems,
or Love songs,  or Cards;

No amount of gifts,
like fine rings,
or overly-cute stuffed bears.

Could ever compair to the emotions that run deep through our hearts,
like rivers flowing along side one another,
that as years pass,
slowly errode away the earth, and stone of contemporary love,

And, as they do so,
they take with them the overgrown weeds of dime-a-dozen love songs (even though I cannot help but cherish each and every one),
and wash away the insignificant problems everyone faces,

And someday soon,
those last few bits of rock, and dirt,
with fall away.

Leaving only one river,
that will flow strong, and pround,

until one day,
a story will be told,
that there was a time,
long, long ago...

standing at the water's edge
as the tide rolls in
playing its little game
of give and take

watching the waves crash in
and errode the beach
like you did my heart
so long ago

here i stand, upon the spot
were you told me
you didn't love me
anymore, breaking
my heart in two

standing at the water's edge
watching the water recede
leaving the broken sand
exposed to the world
for all to see

the memories remain
here at the water's edge
a giant repository
for all my sorrow
you left me with

I thought this up last night:

She left, crossed a river,
Didn't come back,

I fed it with my tears, let the currents grow strong

Everyday I'd think,
Everyday I'd call,

I tried to build a bridge to get to her,
I did,
I ran, I jumped, I crawled to get to her.

She kept on walking,
Didn't notice my running,

I fed it with my tears,
Sides began to errode,

I forgot to call,

The river only got higher,
It grew faster and the bridge began to fall,

My heart tried to leave me a message,
Like I gave her messages every once in a while.

It told me she was gone, it said that she left,
The river was too strong,

It only got stronger, with every tear,
It grew bigger,
It grew faster,

With every thought that hit my mind,
I didn't know what to do,

Where has my heart gone?
Did it fall into the river?
Did it fall into the river?

Washed away with all the tears,
All the dirt,
All the sticks,
All the stones,
All the bones,

My heart lost it's home,
On the other side of the river,
She took it away,
My heart, she stole it

My body went through withdrawal,
Without a heart, what can you do?

I learn't to live with it, eventually I crossed the river too.

But not for long,
I fell apart,
It's impossible to live without a heart,

My tears fell hardest,
The river became a sea,
An ocean

Impossible to cross,
You took my heart and tore me apart,
You left,
Without it, I cried, I died,

Divided by the current,
I faded away.