Just for once, Let me be, The metaphor, Of your poetry, The chapter, Of your novel, And the melody, Of your song, Let this writer, Be the topic, Of the piece you write, Just for once, Let me be the one, Your poetry is all about
Sometimes I'm awake, thinking about all the thinking that holds me from sleep, and I lie there and ponder why i'm lying there asunder just a little too tired to weep.
Sunlight probes my eyes come the morning, a Monday calls my limbs to move but i'm dead weight not shifting though the sand of time is sifting but i'm playing dead, lying aloof.
you read books to me. countless books that i don't even remember. but what i can't seem to forget is how your lips moved across my skin as you read to me.
She had a king, a kingdom, wealth and power. Yet, what is that in the face of passion? Forsook it all for a stranger's love, let crumble the realm beneath the weight of her stray heart.