There's a locked box sitting in my closet.
It's decorated with pictures of us
and all the people we've ever
wanted to be. Written in scratchy
letters and tear stained ink
are your very best quotes.

As much as I love that box itself
I think you should know what
is dying inside the belly of
that beautiful beast. All the
nicknames unwhispered
between the protection of
night and warm sheets
gone unsaid -

unheard

for so long.

The promises unkept
and shattered dreams.
Scenarios and lyrics
you recited in my dreams
as comfort are lingering -
caught in silky
spider webs.

Guitar picks and letters, pencil drawings and
a colorful ring. And at the very bottom
of that sad, lonely box, folded sweetly,
tucked safely beneath everything
else my soul weeps. Withering
away as it promises to

be better

in its next life.

I know you are used to
wasting precious things,
like time and money

as you waltz around
carelessly you stumble
through your loft
in New York, New York.

But elsewhere strangers
of a different life
smell your alcohol stained
breath as they try
to enjoy the stage.

They think the circus
is just fake - that
the clowns wipe the
make up away
at the night's end.

And the ring leader
screams "Happy Birthday!"
to a kid in the front row
with a huge grin.

The lions behave
because if they don't
they won't eat.

Elephants eat peanuts
and wear ridiculous hats
because they do
what has been asked

every time.

You've never left the
city, so you wouldn't
understand.

But if your worlds
were ever to collide
you'd be the biggest
waste of a ticket.

You'd be the clown
with the biggest shoes
and the most vivid
painted face.

And at first you'd be
like the audience,
you wouldn't believe
any of it.

But soon

soon you would
learn just how real
it all is. . .

Once again I sit here
in this busy coffee shop
listening to the drama unfold
between lovers lost and
kids sipping hot cocoa
while mothers read and fathers
are still at work, at least
that's what they say.

There's an artist drawing
heavily in a sketchbook
there's an anime character
with eyes like fields of
bluebells, she's beautiful
just like him.

Everlasting days pass quite
quickly when I'm here
watching people getting caught
in the virtual spiderwebs of
internet surfing and the
moral strength of ignoring
cheesy compliments with
unhealthy intentions.

Now that I think about it,
I'm probably better off without
this nonsense, but i enjoy it
far too much to go anywhere else.

And I'd ask you again if you have a lighter
I'm not smoking yet, but I think I might.
I just need something to take me away
'cause these dusty wings don't seem
to do the trick anymore. There's a tower
blocking my only ray of sun shining hope
and everyone seems to test my luck
not that I have anything left on my
lucky streak, it all died when your ghost
decided it was more fun to linger here
reminding me what it's like to be the one
haunted instead of the one haunting.
****, I miss those days, being the one
everyone muses about in their dreams.

So I'll ask you one more time, if you've
got a lighter out here with you. I swear
I'm not smoking but I just might.
'Cause I'd leave every memory of you
of us at the station if it didn't already
know the way home. I'd drop them off in
a box outside the shelter down town,
but that only works with puppies and
kittens too cute to keep. (shush don't
correct me, I don't have the strength
to break again.) If it helps, I'll just
hold the cigarette between my bleeding lips
I'll taste what I can as harmlessly as
possible and when the smoke finally pulls
away the last piece of my life source
I promise to say you tried to stop me
but I wouldn't listen because I didn't
know how. Don't worry I'll find my way out

someday.

There's roses still in a prettily painted vase
sitting on my desk wilting away as they
cling to summer memories long gone.

After all summer came to her end
months ago when winter claims the lands
and froze the crashing waves as they
stood at sea waiting on us to return

once more.

Locked boxes fill the room each one
with something dead inside trying
to live again in the nostalgia tainted heart
of the collective soul you call "God".

And everybody needs you, no matter
what they say, I'm still pleading Time
to take me away. But when I get my wish
when Winter finally wins, I need you to
promise me one last thing,

Signs will be flashing and people will be
calling your name day after day and
all will say the same three words. Ignore them.

The exit is this way.

With ribbons twisting in her curly blonde hair and
a sparkle in her eye she watches her dad stumble
into her room so he can kiss her good night.

"Daddy, walk a little straighter, Daddy,
you have to be alright. Mommy says the sunrise is wonderful,
but first you have to make it through the night."
she whispers, her arms reaching out.

She hears little voices outside, in the hall,
as Sleep gently pulls her away and
the surroundings begin to fade.
Every day things are fine,
it's when the stars are out that the
quarrels begin and mommy's heart
breaks just a little more.

Safely dreams come to the rescue
taking her to new lands
of ice cream and candy, with castles
made of flowers and she's the princess
with unicorn friends and shadows that
don't come out to scare her
as children tend to find as they play.

In the morning, daddy comes in
with a smile plastered on his face
and an air force suit draped over his arm,
"Sweetie, I'm going away for a while,
I hope that's okay. Just remember,
I'm always here in your heart."

As she begins to cry as all little girls would,
he notices the sun coming in from the window
it looks like a hallow above her sweet face.
He remarks how painfully beautiful such a sight is,
and as he hugs her one last time

the words escape her mother's cinnamon lips,
"Do you feel better now?" before walking him out
and locking the door.

As you go walking past I have to ask
if you even saw the look on her face
when terrible things were words unsaid
that ate her away,
disobeying the hands of fate.
Your little Darling is growing up so fast
in a world so lost and you don't seem to do
a thing about it.

They are all animals out there,
it's a dog eat dog world out there.
That's what everyone says, well,
maybe not, but it's something like that.
Bitter, lonely, and above all depressing.
And as day break arrives you think it will
all be just fine you fed her and clothed her,
taught her how to bathe and listen authority.
But what good does it do
when she's not living her own life?

And when you see her finally having just a little fun,
satisfied just once, cuddled up close to someone
she loves you throw a fit and say she's too young.
But there's nothing happening, they are
right before your very eyes and everything
feels okay for once, but you
don't want it that way.

You want her to fear you because
you need the control.

And you care in front of people because
you have to or she goes away and so
does all your stupid power.

Don't worry, I know what's going on,
that's why I wrote this for you.

Hoping you'd see
it's all about me.