the moon is hiding in
her hair.
The
lily
of heaven
full of all dreams,
draws down.

cover her briefness in singing
close her with the intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her,

Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s

pearls singly-whispering.

These people, these faces I cannot see.
These faces swarm together and vanish.
Faces I knew no longer spoke sweetly.
Once welcome, I am next to be banished.
Should I accept these people, these faces  
With the knowledge of my fate ticking by?
These people acknowledge the ticking pace,
And they decide to force feed me with lies.
For so long, I gorged; avoiding the truth.
After time, the lies became hard and stale.
I lost my appetite, but gained some couth.
Though my heart has hardened, it is still frail.
These people, these faces tried to break me.
These people, these faces released me free.

I wanted to write a poem
but the tips of my fingers
froze on impact and touched nothing
but the memories you left on my skin.
My mind was tainted by the scars
left behind from the prison that is my mind.
I am kind hearted and gentle
but the tragedy that is life
feeds off my mentality
like the waves feed off the wind
And I can't help but feel like
i'm drowning in the chaos
that has invaded my mind
So I turn cold and emotionless.

The soft kisses from your resin stained lips
are the only bliss I have ever known.
Your kind words and gentle nature
the only love i've ever been shown.
Writers remorse is rekindled with tragedy
so what am I supposed to write
when the remorse turns to rebellion
and my heart's fire ignites with a passion
I never knew I possessed.
Nevertheless, I am content
so how are my fingers
going to consent to writing solemnly
when I don't think I have it in me.
I am happy,
and as a writer
that will be the death of me.

Your eyes are telling a tale
Everywhere you go

Your steps are making rhythms
silent and slow

Your head was never high
Nor does your voice

Every tremble of your hands
Every quiver on your lips
I know.