It's over,
never letting go,
holding onto a frail hope.
Gone now.

Brighter than the morning sun,
there you shine, my darling one
I love you more than the earth and the sky
you are my baby, my love, my life.

A stream made of roses,
a house made of thorns,
a forest made of stardust,
and a girl who feels like home.

What is it like,  
to see the world in color
rather than shades of gray?

Chills up my spine,
the music starting,
watch as she becomes alive,
dancing, dancing, dancing.

Sometimes I feel,
like I could walk off the edge of the world
and no one would notice.

A ruby red teardrop,
beautiful and shining.
There is no beauty without pain.

I promised you forever,
and forever it will be.
Because even through the worst nights,
you were there for me.

Even though there are millions of miles,
pulling us apart.
I promised you forever,
and you still have my heart.

He is gorgeous, eyes like pools of stardust.
He is pretty, in a way that defies human nature.
He is kind, in a way that so few ever are.
He is, he is, he is.

You told me I couldn't,
so I did.

Sweet little baby,
where did you go?
You were just here
a moment ago.

Sweet little angel,
happy and free.
Why have you gone?
It's much to early.

Sweet little darling,
your time is done.
Even if it had only
just begun.

I love you,
but I can’t say it.
You will never know,
even if I desperately want you to.

Corpses cannot feel, for they are nothing but a husk,
a pale imitation of a former self,
what gets left behind.

Perhaps I am a walking corpse,
animated, maybe,
but not alive.

we are all made of stars
cast down from the heavens
and turned into
a form we can recognize.

perhaps
we are not all made for a life
on this planet
and should have stayed with the stars.

maybe that is why
some of us look for a way
back to the stars
because we were not made
for this.

Mirror, mirror,
on the wall,
reflecting back a stranger.
They say I'm supposed to be… this,
what they told me I am.
Boxed up,
labeled,
filed away neatly.

But the edges fray.
The corners don't quite fit.
Like wearing someone else's
hand-me-downs,
scratchy and wrong,
against my skin.

I try on different clothes,
different personalities,
trying to find
the one that feels real.
The one that doesn't whisper,
"You're faking it."

Everything feels like a costume,
for a play I never rehearsed for.
Who wrote this script?
And can I please get a rewrite?
Because this version of me?
It just doesn't feel right.

Why do I keep remembering?
Why can I not let go?
Why can't I erase myself?
Why can't I erase the people I used to know?

Would you notice,
if the sky turned black?
Would you notice,
If all the trees cracked?

Would you notice,
If the rivers ran dry?
Would you notice,
If the lakes began to cry?

Would you notice,
if the sun was gone?
Would you notice,
if the days ran too long?

Would you notice,
if I left this place?
Would you notice,
if you stopped seeing my face?

You used to sing
a song so sweet.
A melody made
just for me.

You used to dance
hands in the air.
You didn't care
about whoever was there.

You used to laugh
a beautiful sound.
Then cover you mouth
to hide the noise.

You used to hold me
never letting go.
I wish we could go back
to be the people we used to know.