I just want you
to be happy
but sometimes
and selfishly
I want to be
your happiness

But
'happiness is a choice'
you say
and you didn't choose me

I clung onto the idea
since you made me happy
it would be the same for you

What is happiness now?
where has it gone to?
In time, society has robbed us
the real meaning of happiness

Go on your own way
and pursue your happiness
for your smile, is my smile
your laugh, is my laugh

and I'll be happy
when you find your happiness
because I love you
always have, always will

Screaming at the moon during cloudless nights has become
the only form of
therapy that works anymore.
I'm waiting for
the night it will invite me to curl up in its craters and whisper every
childhood fear
you brought up into conversation when I told you
my memories could be used to show how words
can be sharper than the
broken bottles
your mother lusted. Sleepless nights are sobering my head and
my voice box is starting to suffer more than
the Mona Lisa, but you never liked art that didn't hand you
its meaning with open arms and
a pat on the back. I wish time did more than rust
the only things with
something of value, but
junkyards aren't good replacements for falling stars and
forgotten chunks of metal remind me too much of
the way you loved with a steel heart and
icy touch. You claimed I could find
refuge in between your
ribs, but every
cell in your body is frozen solid and I never found comfort in the way ice sculptures morbidly melt in the presence of the sun with
crossed arms and
a closed mind. I'm sorry
my walls have grown taller than your pride, but i hoped i would be something more than a quest filled with
ships meant to sink. Consequently, maps have grown to be
sly creatures, and the
darts i'm throwing at the world all end up on your
roof without a scratch. I wanted to be more than your
fading scar, and I hope you'll look at your arms
one morning and realize they could be touching mine, and until you do, i'm just stuck here with nothing but a stomach full of
conscience and
mouth full of words i'll only scream to the sky.

O'er the midnight moorlands crying,
Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking,
****'d demons of despair.

Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench'd my youth's aspiring ember,
Liv'd there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Bold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn'd it all was dreaming —
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.

But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing —
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel's whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.

Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.

Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.

I still drift back to one song I heard  years back.
See  
I had me a "come-to-Jesus" moment
When you opened your mouth to sing.
I mean ****
I confess
Since that night I've wanted to get next to you

Tell you about the time I was in the crowd
All ****** and hazy
Then your voice rang out
I sat up in my seat, leaned in
Suddenly awake
and utterly
Stupefied.