Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I know that sounds completely insane.
But in one stage you're there to make me swoon,
and the next change to cause me pain.
When the moon decides she is full,
and can not grow another inch,
we both feel this undeniable pull,
yet from gentle hands we still flinch.

Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I know it sounds completely mad.
You show up just to leave me in ruin,
but it's not always all that bad.
The moon gives the sky some light,
and you feed my heart some lies,
but Darling the moon doesn't shine half as bright,
as your warm and beautiful eyes.

Our connection coincides with the moon,
and I sense you know it too.
Cause even though our words are always skewed,
deep down I'm bound to you.
When the moon decides it's time for her to leave,
and the sky turns solid black,
You follow her and I'm left to grieve,
but I know you'll always come back.

Please don't you bring me down,
I don't remember when I last saw the sun.
Maybe five years ago or around,
or maybe it's only just been one.
Please don't you bring me down,
we both know I'm capable of that myself.
My smile has always been a frown,
no matter how happy I've ever felt.

I've been facing a head on collision,
with every choice and with every decision.
Chain smoking until my lungs turn black,
I'm sporting a death rattle with each wheeze and crack.
Oh how I am so lost,
I paid the price life cost.

Please don't you bring me down,
I'm living only under night skies.
Memorizing the one horse in this town,
it's been years since it last won a prize.
Please don't you bring me down,
I have no issue getting there on my own,
I've made myself a home within the ground,
the insects feed on me until the bone.

I've been facing a head on collision,
with every slice and each incision.
Chain smoking until I've lost my voice,
I cannot complain nor can I rejoice.
Oh, how I am so lost,
I leapt over the line I should never have crossed.

White doors in a white room that's stained,
white floors and yet the gloom remained.
Documented all my crimes,
only ten seconds clipped to advertise.
Shaking but not because the cold,
faking youth while feeling old.
I'm running out of things to say,
it's sunny but the clouds are always grey.

I've been facing a head on collision,
with every spark of ambition.
Chain smoking until I've reached my death,
or until there's no cigarettes left.
Oh, how I am so lost,
I've been cherished and I've been tossed.

For those who need to hear it.
Life is not easy. It's never easy, actually.

And when it rains, it truly does pour.

Sometimes you feel as if you are drowning,
or that you're surrounded by literal ****.

Then it rains, and it pours, and the **** is soaking wet.
But, it's up to you with what to do with that ****.

You can either step in it and complain in disgust...
or you can grab a shovel, a rake, maybe some seeds,
and maybe, just maybe,
you can it turn the **** into something beautiful.

My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right
I’m awake until I break, day and night.
With the voices and the choices that I wish to expel
and the deepest of the secrets I could never tell.

My brain; a stain inside my prisoned skull,
I sharpen it, spear from stick, but it’s too dull.
With the facts free, how they trap me, but I never tried to run away,
my feet sore, a path I’ve taken before, but could never stay.

The ivory teeth chomping away at my sleep,
in vain I try to get high, but I’m just too deep.
With the last of my past that I try to forget,
so I reprise a sunrise but it becomes a sunset.

My head in my bed doesn’t work quite right
what will it take for me to break and appreciate the light?
I rejoice in the choices that I can’t repel,
and the cheapest of the secrets of how I fell.

Of all the words I never got to say
there’s still three that haunt me to this day.
They’re plaguing my skies to turn them all to grey,
I wonder if you ever would’ve felt this way.

I’ll make this cryptic so it stretches it out real long,
less descriptive but the message still stands too strong.
But it sounds so light that it’s become a song;
You were right, you were never wrong.

Of all the feelings I still have these in my chest,
weighing down the muscle slightly above my left breast.
First I thought it a lesson but now I believe it’s a test,
to see if I can beat my head and get some rest.

Read between the line,
when I say that I’m doing fine,
and try to translate my foreign sign,
if you care enough to devote the time.

I’ll make this cryptic so it stretches it out real long,
no intent to be vindictive but the time has come along.
My fear; I’ll fight, even though I’m too headstrong,
you were right, you were never wrong.

She said to always look at the stars
especially the ones that shine so bright.
I’ll keep the memory for my reservoirs,
but the constellation was her in my sight.
You weren’t wrong, you were always right.

Falling down like a rain drop
twenty-twenty but I’m blind.
Knowing that this must stop,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

But maybe the fog has made me hazy,
no one will choose to save me,
write me off as crazy,
their judgements come too hasty.
Red flags planted to trace me
to the spot where I’ve been wasting
no help to do it myself,
I guess I’ve gotten lazy.
I vow to not continue with the crime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Tumbling around like dry leaves,
amazed by the colours you find.
Trading dry mouth for dry heaves,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

Take notice that life as a poetess
feels kind of hopeless,
and as a bonus I’m under hypnosis.
I’ve been focused on picking myosotis
for my magnum opus,
better than roses
but less than autumn crocus.
I’ll watch them bloom in their prime,
maybe tomorrow or another time.

Lying on the ground as the concrete,
don’t mind the chalk as I’m outlined.
I think it’s due I get back on my feet,
maybe tomorrow I’ll change my mind.

Someone broke me into two,
gave my other half to you,
and I never asked for a reason.
Our connection is wave and tide,
it can save or it can hide,
but it's there through every season.

The warmth emitting from the soul,
can swallow all or leave a hole.
Do you hear the same notes that I do?
The frequency beating from my heart
leads me to you when we're apart,
'cause I'll always come back for you.

Someone broke me in two,
gave my other half to you,
and I could never complain.
Our bond is cemented eternal,
it heats me like an inferno,
and it burns through snow and rain.

The beats coming from my chest,
will never be put to rest,
as it'll beat in sync with your own.
The words might not always come easily,
as if I've never been one to speak freely,
I would rather it come from the actions that I've shown.

Someone broke me into two,
gave my other half to you,
and I never felt they were wrong to do so.
I couldn't be owned any more,
you're in my veins and in every pore,
you're in my head and at my side everywhere that I go.

To prevent detrimental love I will become more maligned,
and with each "I" the dotted heart seems more defined.
"Fate vs choice" was the topic when you questioned me,
and my reply was that I believed in the coincidence of destiny.

I find ways to jump start my heart,
as it hasn't been the same since you've torn it apart.
Meryl Streep wins the Oscars, but it's I that presents,
making a comedy out of a life of torment.
I've been at the end of my rope for so very long,
that I've tied multiple knots to test if it's strong.
I ended up with burned palms and scratched off fingertips,
I now have an excuse as to why I can't get a grip.

Now a days I question if I've become a mute, or if I just have nothing to say.
I wear disaster like a tailored suit, that on my bed every morning you lay.
Pick out the best tie, to match my eyes, to choke and strangle my life away,
and shine the shoes, that kick to bruise, but never lead my form to stray.

Keep the blades away from my hands, I want to slice off my ears,
not like Van Gogh's beautiful stand, just tired of annoyances I hear.
I'm sorry that my misery in these pages can't be scrubbed clean, they just will not doff.
Face to face, you'd think me on the Silver Screen, I guess those acting classes paid off.

A schizophrenic lullaby, a portrait that beauty paints with a lie.
A lonely, clear blue peaceful sky, constantly raining beyond the naked eye.
A confusing truth at very best, pushing sweet words down with the rest.
An undeserving, agonizing test, to determine if I'm worth room in your chest

Come waltz between my ears
they’re more sensitive than they seem,
slip and step between the gears,
that are working so hard they cause steam.
For someone who never stops thinking,
there’s still far too many unknowns,
but just like breathing or blinking
I love you down to the bones.

Stay standing behind my eyes,
perfection radiant in my mind,
toss away all of the starry skies,
I might as well become blind.
Say that I’m “one in a million”
there’s doppelgängers and there’s clones,
but you’re one in seven point seven billion,
and I love you down to the bones.

I’ll be red and you’ll be blue,
let’s mix together; create a colour new,
maybe some type of violet hue,
and speckle the world with our dew.

Put up posters of our memories
on every single pole and wall,
caress me with the summer breeze,
and give me the final warmth at fall.
Nothing could ever fill the hole,
not seven kingdoms and no thrones.
Just embrace me through the soul
‘cause I love you down to the bones.

You’ll be day and I’ll be night,
two passing ships still stay in sight,
the tide will pull but we’ll remain tight,
we’ve become accustomed to this fight.

Come carry me back home,
I’m already there if you are too,
though you think that I stray and roam,
darling I never even tied a shoe.
We’re meant to be compiled together,
but I made myself out of sticks and stones,
but I promise you that forever,
I’ll love you down to the bones.

My love;
you’ve told me you wish
to curl up inside my brain
and live amongst its thoughts.

But,
I am utterly convinced
that you constructed it as if
it were the great Pyramids,
and my thoughts as company;
would just be
a million copies of you.

This seed I’ve been tending and grooming,
sadly it misses the sun these days.
Yet I catch the vibrant flowers sprout and blooming,
it’s the strength not the amount of rays.
I’m not afraid to graze the dirt,
I need to reassure it’s fully hydrated,
softly brush the petals, I’d never see it hurt,
I could be offered palm and money trees but I’d never trade it.

Bringing life into each room
and in the darkest pits it provides a shine,
My heart beats start to rapidly boom,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

I buried a time capsule within my chest
though it was defined by a single memory,
I’m not absent minded just it was the best,
changing and morphing but it’s you constantly.
I’m not afraid to lose sight,
both literally and metaphorically,
as long as I can absorb this all day and night
It’s really the only thing that’s important to me.

Bringing light into the world
illuminating each route and sign,
diamond in the rough and deep sea pearl,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

For if she ever wishes for the moon,
I’ll bring down the whole galaxy,
and a second is just too long and not too soon,
she beats my heart and the air that I breathe.

And if she ever craves the stars,
I’d burn my hands to grasp though they reside in her eyes,
they’re the only thing that shines brighter than this love of ours,
and though her name is of the sea I see it etched in the skies.

I know I am stained with darkness and that itself makes me a crow,
and she’s the pinnacle of light and peace and that dawns her the place of dove.
And while we drive ourselves insane, we can’t deny fate and what we know,
that the dictionary has made a mistake,
darling, we are the true definition of love.

She walks away, colours tend to fade,
blending and mixing to a dreadful grey.
In another day, all decisions will be made,
With nothing left to do or left to say.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'll feel a little bit stronger,
regardless of what I lack.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to say goodbye.

I march along, to a beating drum but no song,
where everything is neither right nor wrong.
In another week, I'll lose the will to speak,
only listening to the floorboards as they creak.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
my memories will become fonder,
even though the past I'll have lost track.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to lie.

We continue on, as if there's nothing that is gone,
waiting out the night to see the dawn.
In another year, I'll still be standing here,
and honestly it's my hope but biggest fear.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'd put hold on my honour,
for too long the sky's been black.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to try.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'll feel a little bit stronger,
regardless of what I lack.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to say goodbye.

Listening to Jimmy Buffet
while relaxing on the roof,
she says “I swear I could jump right off it,
because I believe that I am bulletproof.”
This prompts a needed conversation
about theoreticals and physics,
based on her lack of self preservation
soon it will be her grave I visit.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
while both are wrong I could take them on
but you are like the chains to my locks.

I was stumbling through the darkened hall
leaning up for support against the the wall,
And found myself in a dusty bathroom stall,
advertising numbers of some bird I heard I should call.
Give a penny for your thoughts,
I’m saving up for nothing good.
I beg “give it to me straight, doc”
as any good doctor should.

You turn pebbles into rocks
and you make roads into sidewalks,
and in my mind, how easily I find
a thick outline that’s drawn in chalk.

What a bone I’ve got to pick
too bad it’s chipped and it’s been ground.
I hope this situation doesn’t stick;
but it’s past it’s welcome stuck around.
And I’m greeted like an answering machine,
except no has any answers left for me.
It’s all just driven me right up the walls,
I keep saying “you’re killin’ me, smalls.”

I broke at the shore of the ocean
but lovingly embraced the sea,
let it wash away each stain of emotion,
but got carried away and ended up drowning.
While the surf invaded my airways
and the salt brushed to my skin,
my mind flooded with memories of the sun’s rays,
unconsciously my lips found a grin.

I outstretched my arms and pried apart my fingers,
survival instinct set off alarms, but the beat in my chest lingers.
I was pushed and pulled with the current, dragged away with the tide,
my fear of aquatic lifeforms should act as a deterrent, but I decided to enjoy the ride.

Do you see the invisible strings and lines
that intertwine each life and path?
The subtle clues and the flashing signs,
the chemistry and the math.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and the same view.
Similar perspective through different eyes,
different soils but it still grew.

I stood firm and unmoving on a patch of grass that wasn’t green
and I failed to remember the only thing I tried to forget.
Flashbacks and hauntings of every back that I have seen,
walking away with head held high with no regret.

And my body still aches and trembles
with all the days lost it never seemed to retain heat.
But each day gains a shimmer of the past it resembles,
and now I’m warming up except my poor circulated feet.

Do you hear the silent music and unspoken words,
that tell a long story only two or three truly know?
Drowned out by passing cars and chirps of birds,
carried away gently with the wind’s blow.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and same view.
Hand on left I promise to tell lies,
because even the promise wouldn’t be true.

I saw a vision in front me that day,
I didn’t even have to block out a single shadow, I didn’t have to try.
And I smiled unknowingly, not knowing what to say,
even so the words nestled in my throat, I choked but didn’t die.

I’ll gift a map, and I’ll provide clear and written direction.
I’ll mark off each trap, and reveal the secret route to avoid detection.

I’ve got a secret that lives in my head
no one knows of it, not even me.
It surfaces slow while I lie in my bed
I wish I could sleep peacefully.

Wind is biting my ear, my left side is ice cold,
I’ve turned numb; I’m not even tingling.
A lifetime of bronze and silver, finally received gold,
but to place around my neck; I’m still hesitating.

It’s been a starry, starry night,
with Rhone’s reflection shining bright
and our Irises connect and only ever see light.
Studying sorrow; pain vs. fear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

It will be while on the dryest island where I find my lungs filled with water.
It will be collapsed on ground when I finally stand,
and encased and embraced in ice when I start getting hotter.

Promises will be made
and secrets are kept,
you’re inside me as I’m flayed,
exposed and I feel in debt.
You know that I love you,
that I only think of you,
and no one is your equal let alone ever above you.

It’s been so long at Eternity’s Gate,
I missed the Almond’s Blossom; I was too late,
and The Potato Eaters complain with what is on their plate.
Studying sorrow; shame or a tear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

I’d jump to paint your shadow
or even draw your outline in chalk,
I’d drag myself behind you even if you were to allow
me the privilege alongside you to walk.

I was never one for holidays from the start,
naturally I'm almost always depressed,
but tis was the season when life broke my heart,
and gifted me three years of feeling stressed.
Life became dark even with every coloured light,
every tree withered until they became dry,
the old Yuletide songs became cliche and trite,
I replaced each note with a tired sigh.

We couldn't deck all of the halls,
infact neither of us could even stand,
while the normal people were crowding the malls,
I was watching the clock's moving hand.
Santa never received a list from me,
I was too busy writing a final farewell,
I wasn't judged nice or naughty,
no destination towards heaven or hell.

Seven years of bad luck,
It's been seven years of dread.
Seven years since my comfort was struck,
it's been seven years since they pronounced you dead.
The winters have gotten longer,
the summers are never even there,
I'm weaker instead of stronger,
I'm fading and refusing care.

Our carol's weren't sung they were quietly spoken,
you know our festivities were just kind of a drag,
'cause that Christmas not a single present was opened,
Instead we closed up a body bag.
I watched them wheel you out the front door,
no reindeer were trotting on our roof,
I lay sobbing on our cold hard floor,
no Santa, no God, and I now had proof.

Seven years of bad luck,
It's been seven years of dread.
Seven years that image has been stuck,
reliving it inside my head.
The winters have gotten colder,
and summer has lost it's length.
I may be seven years older,
but it seems I've lost all my strength.

I still can't decorate a tree,
and saying "Merry Christmas" cuts me like a knife.
Atleast I'll always have my memory,
and you're with me with every kindness I show in my life.

My soul came back, quick like lightning,
and it's arrival was not welcome.
Sporting a fresh crack under whitening,
bound with a fate to always be numb.
Everyone desperately craves originality,
but they don't realize the isolation.
There doesn't seem to be a solid home for me,
amongst this dust and desolation.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Tomorrow I'll swallow my words that cut like a knife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
I hope the eruption satisfies your appetite.

The walls were tainted with love struck scribbles,
written in every colour of the rainbow,
so we painted but there still were dribbles,
I slept in a made bed and always reap what I sow.
What does it matter if it's in the past?
There's no reasons that I've found.
But I see a pattern of what doesn't last
and you know lately I'm always down.

You went to rub salt in my wound
I told you that I've had my fill.
You informed me the world was doomed,
and you were looking forward to the thrill.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Borrow and follow the world's sense of strife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
just because that's how you feel it doesn't make it right.

I never knew much about other souls,
until I watched one fall apart,
crumbling from all the cracks and holes,
stemming out from a broken heart.
I was never fluent in social clues,
the ones that tell you what you want to hear,
instead I'd sit silent ready to lose,
what I loved all due to fear.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Explorer of wallow, bestfriend and a wife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
I'll underline the tragedy and italicize my might.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
but how will anyone know if it never makes it into sight?

I named her Christ,
as it was only when I met her that I realized I had been dead for all my years,
and she resurrected me with a single touch.

She turned my water into wine,
as I was constantly intoxicated just knowing she lived,
and all words came out like slurred gibberish.

She built a solid foundation and home,
solely with her bare hands,
and sheltered me from every element.

Her hands healed every scar and wound,
leaving warmth where there had been cold,
and soft silk where there once was rock.

I'm sure she was born from the brightest star,
shining down from the Heavens,
lighting the way to eternal nirvana and pure bliss.

I named her Christ,
as she walked effortlessly on water,
and I prayed it would be forever in my direction.

I’ll be the first to admit
I didn’t have much almost a year ago,
but I had you and you had me.
We had dug ourselves a hole so ******* deep,
even with a telescope scrounged from the garbage we could not catch any glimpses of the natural life above us.
But I held your hand in the darkness
and gave it reassuring squeezes to let you know we’d climb out eventually,
and if we failed, we’d have eachother in the darkness.
At some point I stopped feeling your hand squeeze back,
and within the darkness I could only conclude you had died.
That I was within a hole, I suppose a grave now,
refusing to abandon a decomposing corpse.
When your lips peeled back it revealed your teeth clenched together,
and I convinced myself it was a final smile, but really, I see it was gritted teeth of discontent and disgust.
You blamed me solely for the grave,
but we dug it together, and it only became a grave because you decided to give up instead of fighting for each day and the possibility it would bring.

Everytime we talk now, you leave me for the night to stew in the sadness
and loneliness, you initially left me to drown in.
But there’s a drought from the skies,
so I fill the hole with my tears,
and the blood gushing out from the wounds you gifted me.
I failed to realize those tender kisses where compressed, jaw locking bites into my flesh,
tearing open whatever jugular you had left with me after going after it.

You tell me about your current predicament since your soul
departed the grave and rejoined the land of the living.
It isn’t as great as you believed it would be, is it?
So why do I still feel obligation and sadness hearing about it?

You left me to fend for myself,
to pick up the pieces of the life
we had together that you shattered in a matter of an hour.
You didn’t feel remorse or responsibility for where and how you desserted me.
I’m just not that type of person.

You set what little I had left on fire.
Whether it was my structure,
my financial security,
my confidence,
and the pieces of myself I wished to give to someone more deserving.
Someone who could be there for me in a way you never wanted to be.
Someone who actually loves me and wants to climb out of holes with me.
And I just can’t now.

I don’t love you anymore.
Atleast, not the way I believed I did.
But why do I still feel protective and responsible
for the one who poured the gasoline
and lit the match,
and didn’t even bother to stay to warm their soul at my pyre?

I must be the biggest ******* idiot on the planet.

A note to men from a woman: I'm sure you're tired of reading these,
but this one is crucial, I won't blame you for every problem in this world.
But I'm asking you to read the whole way through please,
for we've all been told to be seen and not heard since we were a small girl.

When you approach us to talk, don't look at *** walking on legs,
and don't talk to us as if you'd speak to *** itself.
Don't tell us to dress nicer, 'cause then we'll feel like we're dressed in rags,
and feel that pressure to look for a man for wealth.
Not every woman will use you, but some will,
and not every man will **** us, but some do still.
Truth is, we are treated differently, but so are you,
but we get to pull our discrimination out of our pocket when it suits us best,
Pocket is a metaphor, some workplaces "suggest" wearing skirts and something to show off the chest.
Worst part is, most women then do.

When a man loses a job to a woman; no one bats an eye,
"They've got an equality quota to fill" and that isn't a lie.
I'm sorry for that standard, for whoever is qualified should get the prize,
but we've lived in a world of participation awards and protest cries.
That being said, we almost always work under or for you,
not every time, but most times, you know that's true.
I can't speak for the wage gap, for in Canada we all earn our wage from the same,
but every woman I speak to works harder and longer then the men around,
for myself I stress to go above and beyond for my own pride and name,
while the boys all laugh and talk sports into the ground.

When you want to compliment us, please try to think of something other than our appearance,
Something that doesn't equal "you are pleasing for MY eyes to see."
We'd never say "you look like you've got a good ****" though I'm sure you might want to hear it,
but wouldn't it be better to compliment each others manners, hard work or creativity?
Tell a girl she's beautiful on a date, 'cause that's when she tried to look nice for you,
not when she's living life, she isn't bait,
especially not in sweatpants with an up-do.

You can hold a door open for us, and we can hold a door for you,
We can all hold doors open for each other.
Chivalry is dead, but common manner's will do,
we should treat one another like a sister or brother.
"Men and women can't be friends"
Well to that, I say it's a lie,
and so is the message that it sends,
that we are just meant to procreate then die.

Final message to men, and this one is so common it's insane,
But when we are nice and smile, it isn't to flirt,
It's be polite and sweet, it's that simple and plain.
So sticking with being polite, I'm sorry if your ego is hurt.
Don't claim we lead you on by being nice,
and don't use the word friend like it's a bad thing,
'cause that just proves you're looking at us like a vice,
even if you think you wanted to give us a ring.
No matter what you do for a woman, or your relationship with her,
gives you the right to enter her body without her soberly saying yes,
Imagine if we entered your urethra with needles over and over,
that's the closest comparison I can think of, I must confess.

Now to my females: don't cry wolf when you make a mistake,
I'm not talking about victim blaming, I'm talking about taking it back when you regret it the next day,
'Cause that hurts a real case of violation and heartbreak,
just because you have a boyfriend or the guy last night now has nothing to say.
When a man calls you a *****, please don't you get angry,
It's a compliment in my eyes, cause you spoke your mind against his.
A ***** has a spine and a mind, and that *****'s mind is free,
I would change my name to *****, maybe in front of it with "Ms."

"That's just the world we live in."
"That's just the way things are."
I don't know about you, but I believe we can all win,
In changing it to "the way things were " in a future not too far.

For you see, we are not each others natural enemy,
The real evil in this world drew this idea with great creativity,
to distract both him and her, and you and me.
They organized it, exaggerated it, and flashed it on a TV screen,
to keep our attention away from what's going on behind the scene.

So to all justice warriors who are obsessed,
still hold your torches and pitchfork in hand,
'Cause truth is no matter what 99% of us are all oppressed,
and right now by targeting each other, we work into the 1%'s plan.
All genders and races, we are all allies,
Look into our eyes and faces, and you'll see the ties.
By keeping us fighting one group or the next after that,
We don't have the energy or attention to go after the real threat.
It'll buy them time, while we buy their production line,and their wallets grow fat,
and we'll remain their pawns in their game, and they'll have the coin to place their next bet.

I grasp a taste of purity, and I want to set it aflame,
as the past is blinding me and highlighting the blame.
I try to block it out to forget what has been done,
but it still screams and shouts, it’s something you can’t outrun.

I view pictures of violence, and I want to set it aflame,
hearing the empty silence always calling out my name.
I cut off every limb and hope that the blood still flows,
my veins are neatly trimmed but my tainted flesh regrows.

I sit with lifeless lampposts and attempt a peaceful dwell,
but running come the ghosts, pushing me back down to Hell.
They line up and take numbers, listing my damaged pride,
I have to bite my tongue until the darkness fades inside.

I lie under the last tree; its leaves were set aflame.
The fire burning free, no one on this earth could ever tame.
The wind drags it out and the ashes fade to dust,
I used to pray for drought, but the Gods have lost my trust.

I see her sad eyes and her life was set aflame,
I cry out to the skies, begging the clouds to rain.
I cradle my soft soul as it changes in its hues,
the story is already told but the ending was left skewed.

You take it all out me,
want more than I could be.
What’s the difference between friend and foe?
How thick’s the line and how far does it go?
Handcuff me to my sins, they’re attached anyway,
I see the smirks and grins, can’t hold them off at bay.
The skies are grey, and that’s how they’ll stay,
until the next break of day.

One day I should sever the ties
if I wake up, suddenly clever and wise.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
It’s never been a mystery,
sweetness sprinkled with lies.
There’s no prize, no highs,
no compromise, just goodbyes.

What’s the difference between friend and foe?
I give the answers to questions I don’t know.
You say you care but it’s something you don’t show,
I doubt the sentiment’s there, but it deals a heavy blow.

You take it all out of me,
want more than I could be.
Draining my energy
till I can’t stand or breathe.
The skies remain so grey,
and that’s how they’ll all stay,
I’m fighting for one single sun ray.

One day I should sever the ties
if I wake up, suddenly not hypnotized.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
No note, just a list for me,
to advise but the size,
exposes your true guise.

I won’t even try to pretend,
that we both haven’t went off the deep end.
So what’s the difference between foe and friend?

One day I should sever the ties
‘cause you’ll never wake up or realize.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
And oh, how you’ll miss me,
when no one listens to your cries,
or your sighs, or your lies,
or goodbyes.

I’ve been holding you afloat,
trying to keep you from drowning
in your tears.
I know you secretly have a boat,
but you’ve actually been dead for years.

Late in the night; whispering walls and floorboard creaks,
my fingertips gently brush dust off a mirror.
Carefully I scrub and shine until there’s no specks or streaks,
yet the reflection doesn’t grow any clearer.
I know time will only march on,
but I both dread and long for the dawn.

Awoken abruptly from a thirty year slumber,
realization slaps me swift in the face.
I find myself now wishing I was thirty years younger,
I’ll still finish last but I could restart the race.
I know time will only march on,
but where has all that time gone?

Alone in this world; what a terrible thing,
the only company provided is loneliness and nicotine.
I look to my hands knowing I could never wear a ring,
even if I could it would fall off as I grow older and more lean.
I know time will on march on,
but I forgot the song for the swan.

The people and places in the journey of life
have shaped me into a person I forgot I could be,
and while I may be comfortable, I’ve known my share of sadness and strife,
and you know the two both also know me.
I know time will only march on,
but why play chess to only be a pawn?

Late in the night, I light candles and sage,
though the shadows will remain in the corner.
Youth is wasted on the young, I’m halfway done at my age,
and I’ve spent most of my life as a mourner.
I know time will only march on,
and my breath will be used just to yawn.

I claimed gravity was overrated,
lately I’d rather be up than down.
Pros and cons, comparisons, versus and debated,
anchored; I do not see shackles I feel a crown.

And we are two balloons
floating high towards the sky.
Spending endless afternoons
lightly touching to electrify.
You know there isn’t one single thing
that could make me float astray,
but I’ll still ask you to hold tight to my string,
because I don’t want to drift away.

We sent declarations in the pale moon light,
trading out sentiments with each cycle and phase.
I’d agree with the statement of beauty but it was you in my sight,
and I was admiring the skin I craved to graze.

Like Don McLean, I love you so,
but the magnitude I don’t believe you’re sure,
and you must know that I’d never go,
as life before you was a series of emptiness; one giant blur.
This with you, I much prefer.

And we are two connecting minds
weaving and completing each thought.
Volunteering for finger traps and binds,
to be intertwined and fitting into eachothers slot.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that would ever keep me at bay,
as the peace and happiness you bring,
beside you is where I’m meant to lay.

And I stared into her deep warm eyes,
I’ve lost count it must’ve been for the millionth time.
I compared each shade speckle to the starry skies,
exclaiming no shock to how they still outshine.
I told her “if you want to see my heart,
I’ll break it right open for you.
Tear and pick each piece apart,
present it like a pomegranate fruit.”

And we are two corresponding souls,
drifting on a current towards eachother.
Each and every person played their roles,
to reassure us there could never be another.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that could ever drag me away,
you’re the first warm day of spring
I was always meant to stay.

Poor old trees, I talk to them too much these days,
if they’re listening they know my voice, and they know my ways.
But it’s getting old, as I miss a soul, that could never be replaced,
trees have no arms, they have no heart and they have no face.

The grass is good to lie with, it’s such a faithful friend,
but it won’t stay green forever, only the days the sun can lend.
But when it’s there, thin and fair, you’re only on it for a while,
grass has no eyes, it has no laugh and it doesn’t have a smile.

The wind is such a comfort, it embraces you with the air,
but you’ll always be reminded that the protection isn’t there.
But when it aborts, all its support, you will find yourself so alone,
wind has no past, no family and it does not have a home.

The stars are such a shoulder, they’re there for all your tears,
they listen to your troubles and keep secrets of all your fears.
But they must leave, eventually, blocked by morning’s glow,
stars have no mind, they have no voice and they do not have a soul.

I took my first wrong turn
when I took you so for granted,
I was so relieved to wake up next to you.
I’m so used to making my world burn,
or making sure that it stays slanted,
perhaps I should stop writing in red and start with blue.

You want to know what was my worst mistake,
it was watching your heart break
to prevent a fracture of my own.
I need to stop doing things only for my sake;
can’t eat and have my own cake,
each day is just a loan.

I see colours from and around you
but I always paint shades of grey,
we can argue that the pictures beautiful all the same.
Analyze shadows, shades and each hue,
we can always find a sun ray;
we’ve perfected it into our own type of game.

You want to know what was my worst regret,
was making your eyes turn wet
to keep my own dry.
I’d place all I own left on a bet
that it’s something we both won’t forget,
I wish that was a lie.

I committed my worst crime
based upon my biggest sin,
you’re so faithful; truth is I don’t deserve you.
“This won’t happen a second time,
I’d rather trade off my soul and my skin
spend the rest of my life held together with tape and glue.”

You want to know what was my worst mistake,
it was watching your heart break
to prevent a fracture of my own.
Share consequences from the choices I make,
it causes me to burn and ache
right down to the bone.

She said “I don’t think I’m ok,
infact that much I know.”
She spends every single day
running against the winds blow.
When did she stop trying?
Did she even ever start?
Spends all of her time crying
as if to water a drought.

The tight rope is too tight,
and you walk a very thin line.
Another day and it’ll be alright,
and tomorrow you’ll be fine.

She said “I don’t want to a survivor.”
I tell her there’s worse things to be.
Keeps holding her breath like a diver,
but lack of oxygen is worrying.

We were standing right under the streetlight,
with no stars in our sight but those created with might.
With the cold’s bite making our skin burn and bright
saw the discomfort in my sight, “you got to clutch your jacket more tight.”

Now the pool is just too deep,
and your laps aren’t making time.
Another day and another promise to keep,
and tomorrow you’ll be fine.

The tight rope is too tight,
and you’re walking a very thin line.
But if you hold on with all your fight
then tomorrow you should be fine.

Who gave permission to paint the inside of my eye lids,
closing them was the only door I had to escape each day.
I’ve knocked down monuments and blew up all the power grids,
and yet there’s sounds, thoughts and memories I can’t keep at bay.

Someone needs to cover their tracks,
I’d rather gut wrenching honesty than sugar coated lies.
I’m not obliviously naive I drown myself in facts,
connecting invisible dots and stretching coincidences and ties.
I saw a rainbow, though it’s hard to distinguish if it was just in my mind,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

The game of chess I left years before;
the pawn on it’s side that I placed the blame.
The knight, king and queen are strewn on the floor,
did I happen to mention that I lost the game?

Losing my path that I’ve been following,
though indecisive I’ve always been one to lead,
and with these objections I’ve been swallowing
it’s a wonder my throat hasn’t begun to bleed.

Someone needs to cover the cracks,
‘cause the water’s rushing in as time goes by.
All I feel is cold shoulders and turned backs,
not sky or ocean but veins to match each eye.
I’ve got a million confessions on my tongue, but the words I just can’t find,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

I swore I opened the thirteenth door
but I found myself upon floor,
and dragged myself until I was tattooed with rug burn.
Experiencing an implosion from my core,
flame’s extinguished but I feed the fire more,
I’ve always played with matches, I guess I’ll never learn.

I lay watching the clouds
change shape into my distractions,
all hitting my brain so loud
I wish to turn it down by fractions.
Feeling isolated within crowds,
and feeling excluded from my own factions,
I hide my heart but it’s well endowed,
and it’s all yours despite my words and actions.

You slowly run down my spine
and I’m sure you’re draining all of the fluid.
And how I think about you all of the time,
my God, if you only knew it.
While only in fleeting view,
you know my heart’s roads always lead to Rome,
and my love meeting and being with you
was just like finally coming home.

I need to ask this question,
I beg for you to answer it true,
please bring about heavy confession,
that you think of me as much as I think of you.
As my eyes only see you,
they burn with such scorching heat,
and they change from green, brown and blue,
the hues battle and they compete.

City streets and hardwood floors,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Silent night and the darkest skies,
I drink in the perfect sight before
my eyes.
Each days that passes through,
three sixty-five takes its toll,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

You didn’t ask but you received my hand;
writers cramped and splattered with ink.
I’ve got this devotion I wear like a brand,
and you’re the only thought I think.
And if you should ever lose your sight and detection,
I will guide you through the dark,
any bruise, blemish or believed “imperfection”
I see only as a beauty mark.

Stretched out on my sheets and in my pores,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Shining light and my personal sunrise,
I drink in the perfect sight before my eyes
Each moment feels brand new,
one step closer to our ultimate goal,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

Electricity now coursing in my veins
and galaxies stretched out upon my skin.
I wished to merge instead of changing lanes,
so thank you darling for letting me in.
Now I’ll forever be drowning in your eyes,
and always breathing in your voice.
I was in the dark but you lit the skies,
even the stars know you’re the superior choice.

Within the first breaths
of the early morning hours,
I lie in the dim abyss of my room.
I can’t help but feel a cold, empty
and heavy void in the entirety of my abdomen
as I wonder
if I will ever have a chance to have
someone, or something,
know every inch of me
like my pen does.

I can’t accept that my heart must turn to stone
just so that I don’t have to fade to dust and bone.
What good is life if you must go it alone?
Everyone should hear a voice versus a dial tone.

I don’t want to put a price on my head or on my soul,
and I don’t want to pay the price when I’ve already paid the toll.
Maybe I should take a lesson or two from a certain mole,
and find myself a nice warm and cozy hole.

Instead I resign and lay down on cold concrete
hoping it might absorb some of the sun’s heat,
like during days in the summer when it burns your feet,
they say you could hear an egg sizzle and it could cook your meat.

You may think I resemble a crumpled up bill,
discarded and thrown away at someone else’s will,
or maybe just another ant upon the hill
that’s awaiting to be squashed, just awaiting the ****.

Still I’m risking it all for just one more day,
even though the colours drain and then they fade to grey.
What you give you should not take away.
the rules keep on changing but not the way we play.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Em?”
I’m shaking my head and cheeks turn red.
Holding back tears but coughing up phlegm,
just consider me one of the walking dead.

And in all of that; myself I will find
and I’ll find myself becoming blind.
With clenched fists and teeth that grind,
living in the constraints of a mortal mind.

I fail at persuasive entanglement
and negotiations almost masterfully,
as I try to strike a deal with whatever entity, or deity, that encompasses the life force around us.
“Show me a way,” I murmur,
pure exhaustion laced within what
passes for my voice today.
“If you can’t throw me a bone,
then throw me air; I swear it will suffice.”
Just once I would like to experience the gratification and overall relief and completion
at getting one of the few things I wished for in life.

And if it’s will sees it fit that I have neither bone nor oxygen,
then I plead that it atleast grants me the smallest grain of wisdom,
all within the right moments,
so that if life truly is circular versus linear,
that when I get pushed down the wrong path, open the wrong door,
and make life altering mistakes,
I can atleast try to gather the strength to force myself to prevent them.
So maybe one day, even a day repeated, especially a day repeated,
I might know what happiness feels like
when it isn’t artificial or ripped from my hands swiftly.
I held a soft grip once out of wishing to provide comfort, protection and love,
when maybe I should have been digging my nails deep,
and holding on for dear ******* life.

Years ago I closed that door,
my mind absent and I forgot to check the lock.
What came knocking, the same as before,
with the repeated conversations where I could never talk.

How did I come to this,
it’s like a loop repeated in time,
but it’s the only one I want to end.
Watch tragedy stem from bliss,
no lemons so life tossed me a lime,
I’ll keep stirring but it won’t blend.

Today I singed myself with a cigarette
in question if I could still detect heat.
No pain, no burn, no reflexes or regret,
no warmth for I to ever greet.

How did this take over,
I saw the path in front of my eyes,
with weeds and fences blocking the way.
It’s all crimson and clover,
painted and blended in the skies,
and I hope the landscape will stay.

I made a list last night
of the things I want in life,
and you’re at the top i’of the chart.
The other numbers have grown trite,
and they’re blank with strife
because everything else has come apart.

Darling, what do you think of me?
and how often, how frequently?
I’ve been comparing and relating,
Lovely, do you still have your key?
To my breath and heart beating,
I’ve been longing and debating.

The cold winds are now rising,
the night has only grown more dark,
avoiding destruction appears tantalizing,
but my eyes remain fixated on that one spark.
It has the potential to set the world ablaze
though I only wish to warm up my bones,
and after all these years you still completely amaze
you’re unlike anyone else, no match to any snowflakes or stones.

Woke up drained wishing that I was dead,
this life has meaning but only in my head,
I give her every part of me, and she asks me to repeat what I just said.

Now how does she not know
which direction my mind will go?
Her veins and my blood flow,
and a pair of hands to row.

It’s taken a toll and far too many years,
back and forth shuffling blame and our fears,
she lets me think I drive, but we both know she steers.

Now how can I stay strong?
Always repeating that one song.
She’s right until she’s wrong,
but I’m not where I belong.

I accepted a truth and made a lie stick,
covered and layered it over so outrageously thick,
she keeps me alive, but I’ve always been sick.

Now how can she not see
just how vital she is to me?
Giving priceless stock out for free,
but I’m never where I should be.

Woke up drained wishing that I was dead,
my heart breaks as often as she breaks bread.
I give her every part of me, and she asks me to repeat what I just said.

Long years going strong, and the empty pill bottles take up too much space.
Was I right? Were you wrong? It was someone else's medicine I was made to taste.
The trite blabbering needs to stop, there's an issue here that's coat heavy with silence,
but I don't want the topic to drop, I just would rather not end it in violence.

Take the mountains away, and the sun from day,
turn every painting into a Dorian Gray.
I read into a verse, and my mind only makes it worse,
I think the ability of thought isn't a gift but a curse.

The hours all blend in with smoke, and blank filled far out stares,
I'm not like the common folk, who live their lives with trivial cares.
I used to be so ****** smart, now I stumble on every single word,
was my soul torn apart? I wonder if you even heard.

Take the mountains away, and the sun from day,
turn every painting into a Dorian Gray.
I read into a verse, and my mind only makes it worse,
I think the ability of thought isn't a gift but a curse.

My eyes have changed colour since that day,
but they soften when I remember thoughts of her.
Twirling pools of green, blue and grey,
and I'm not sure which shade I prefer.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's wish,
the one thing they want whenever they open a gift,
A prize that they see would be worth every risk,
A five star entree that makes you pass the side dish.

And day will bleed in to night,
and I'll tie my shoes too tight.
Think in the dark and ignore the light,
scribble all the answers out of sight
but it'll be alright.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's goal
A thought that consumes all their ambitions whole.
That they see me as priceless but still go bankrupt to pay the toll,
and I complete them, left arm to their right and a heart to their soul.

And day will bleed in to night,
and I'll tie my shoes too tight.
I'll feel the restless stirs kiss and bite,
And I'll be too short for the ride, regardless of my height,
but it'll be alright.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's dream,
I'd be their ocean instead of a river or stream.
I can be the needle to stitch their  seam,
Be the summer in winter and every season inbetween.

My soul was consumed
so I can tell you for what it's worth,
It was as if sadness has bloomed
and hope failed to give birth.
I'd never wish that onto anyone,
with all the loneliness I saw,
so many things had come undone
except my wired jaw.

Now I think little thoughts that are so petty,
like why didn't Archie ever pick Betty?

I can’t gurgle out a love filled poem today,
even though so many of you have been dedicating work to Valentines Day all week.
All I’ve been thinking is;
almost everyday I write a poem
for the girl I love with every inch of myself,
and she doesn’t even seem to know it’s her my words come to life for.
So today I take a stand,
‘cause who writes love poems
for the poets?

There's always two directions and no one knows the best course,
for my simple and small affections never smudge out my remorse,
And with all four seasons, I only ever see my love grow,
as the heart has it's reasons, reason itself does not know.

I was living in a sunset, counting seconds until the next rise,
but I always fail to forget how the glare stings my eyes.
Coated now with a harsh wind's blow, just one of the four seasons to flaunt,
it's true that only the heart can know what it is that the heart wants.

I see the trees; changing colour with slow seconds in between,
I'll be what's needed of me; yellow, brown, red or green.

They tell me the days will only get longer;
I'm unsure as to if that's good or bad.
"The sun's rays will just hit you stronger,
and your farmer's tan will show up plaid."
And with all four seasons, time moves both fast and slow,
as the heart has it's reasons, reason itself does not know.

I aspired to draw a line in the sand
but I ended up carving a square.
It birthed a perimeter that wasn’t planned,
enclosing the emptiness of what was there.
If I could find the will to move my legs
I’d still plant my feet on either side,
but they’re dangling off each limb that drags,
dead weight bumping and bouncing along with the ride.

Stagnantly cushioning careless decisions
and finding loose lint among the remains,
stitching is falling behind the constant incisions
but surprised the pleasures match with the pains.
I’ll be going over, while falling under,
come run Red Rover, abstain or plunder.

I noticed the devolution of my skin,
in the irregular margins I jotted scribbled notes.
We could cut the cost with aluminum foil versus tin,
it could mimic barriers like our winter coats.

See my mouth refuse to further consume
my teeth are made solely to crunch numbers,
checking every inch within each room,
I can’t comprehend the routine this encumbers.
You supply the war
and I’ll supply the headlines.
We’ll follow the same pattern as before,
but now watch out for land mines

I poured the tears into stale water
and traced my hand upon the sun,
burnt fingertips but I thought it would be hotter,
and the brightness could blind if not stun.
Walk off the wounds from imagination
and get in the ring to face reality’s wrath,
I’ll take comfort in knowledge of my destination,
I never rerouted my destined path.

I swore I meant to get baptized
you ended up with my head under water,
just alittle too long that time
and it should be cold instead of hotter.
I fight against the rough waves
my arms reach out for you instead of splashing.
I prefer that method where I’m being saved
instead of receiving a verbal thrashing.

Rooted in ground, meant to settle down,
hiding under the rubble,
you’re not Sonic in the bubble.
While I’m bound to always maybe poke around
believe me I don’t want to cause trouble.
I’m not Sonic in the bubble.

I’ve always wanted a bigger bath tub
she craves to have a yard once more.
Everyday I trade both for a back rub
you ask “is your body even sore?”
I tell her who doesn’t feel some strain
and that her hands have always felt healing,
infact they cure almost every single pain
that I’ve had the misfortune of feeling

Hearing no sound, except the counting down
too far and deep in a puddle
you’re not Sonic in the bubble.
A trick I found is to always use a spin pound
straight from the knuckle,
I’m not Sonic in the bubble.

I only want the best chocolate
but I won’t pay for it out of pocket,
I expect a free taste to know if it’s worth my time.
Like picking doors and lockets
and sticking your fingers into sockets
it’s the type of thrill you don’t want to define.

I never feared much,
I had a recklessness about my own life.
One day I tasted fear, and decided I preferred invincibility.
I couldn’t fight it,
God knows how hard I tried.
and I was slapped with realization:
I gained a gigantic fear;  being without you.

But now,
my biggest fear,
the one that keeps me up at night
and chokes the little air from my lungs,
is that you’ll live your life not ever knowing
how very much I love you,
and how every work of art in this world
pales and insults the perfection
that radiates from you
straight into my heart,
embracing my soul,
and overriding my mind.

I love you so much,
it’s a kin to daggers stabbing
every single inch of my body.

You’ll know now.

I’ve got another cold night ahead of me
exhale and treasure the breath that I see.
Snow prints don’t lie,
dark tints the sky and I
still witness a star glimmer in my lazy eye.

Whipping winds lash at my face,
squeeze in my shoulders and pick up my pace.
Snow prints don’t lie,
my squints still try to magnify
and catch a glimpse of light to my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
prepared for all types of weather
but I’ll be tripping over rocks.
No choice but to keep on going
even without water, shelter or a knife,
and though I’m done with all of the snowing
I guess I’ll just layer up for life.

I’ve got another long day in my view
hopelessly chasing a sunset, I miss each shade and hue.
Snow prints don’t lie,
short stints too high but I comply,
hoping to rest my head and close my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
to be facing the outside better
but I’ll be crashing with the stocks.
And in order to pass “go” again,
you gotta trek through heartbreak and strife,
cold hands, do you have mitts to lend?
As I must layer up for life.

I’m determined to walk the path less taken,
and when we intersect it will be the one less shaken.