I'm sitting alone nostalgic
Kettle's been boiling for a while
Water nearly gone
What was it to be made
Coffee, tea or brew of quince
With a touch of tarragon
In your antique pocelain mug
A windfall from college days
You called it a talisman
Cast out of immemorial lands
A sign you must take to heart
And chase your feelings
With reckless mind
Without help from anyone...
Feelings that show you the way
Toward Elysian fields.
The water is all but gone
A drop or two for fond memories
We might have beaten the odds
Planting love in ******* mold
But enchanted by dreams
You chose to contain your love
And follow the singings of your heart
Though you have long been gone
Your illusion still lingers on
Tempting me to feed your love.

THE DOLL OF POCELAIN SKIN:

There once was a doll of porcelain skin
Born in a world of malicious intent
Fair, graceful and kind she was to her kin
Yet cruel pain was all she got in extent

Though as righteous as she seemed she was not
For scars lay under her porcelain skin
Yes, deep ugly scars of torture and rot
That tainted her smiles in angst and sin

The ache was so bad she let the mask slip
and let them see the face that lied within
The hideous visage that was bound to tip
The truth that would break her porcelain skin

They called her vicious and asked why she changed
When the facade was all she disaranged