We all get lost sometimes,
trying to follow a stream of lightbulbs
flickering on in our heads
that lead to a place where you can unlock your heart.

A wooden desk.
An empty page.
A mind that's filled
with fire and rage.

A dash of moonlight,
A lamp on a stand,
Shadows in the distance,
a pen in my hand.

A life shattered inwards,
A stiff whiskey drink.
Endless heartbreak to tell of,
but no drops of ink.

A writer who can't write,
like a groom with no bride.
An unfulfilled person,
with sadness inside.

You see the slump in my shoulders
the way I carry myself
the burdens of boulders
that threaten my health.

When you ask what's wrong
I pull up my guard
don't want your pity or sad song
won't tell you why life's hard.

So if you want to know
I'll bottle it inside
wrap up all remains in a black bow
and tell you I'm fine.

Some where in Paris
Empty cobbled street
You look at the river beside the street
There sits a bench under the moonlight
You walk towards it
The street is empty,
The night sky is immense
Even more immense with the blue stars
Flickering in the distance.
Sitting on the wooden bench
Facing the free flowing waters,
Under the vast night sky
You sit alone with the moon
Next to the flowing river
And wish that this feeling would last
Forever...