All this time I've been keeping my mind on running waves,
screaming over oceans much bigger
higher and louder than my love.
Pulling out of my cards; Jacks and Knaves.
Happiness is not you
it is not addiction,
maybes and days of soon.
Depth holding me is comfort
so is awaking at noon.
But it's not honest,
it is a life, untrue.
To the girl that I am
and the wind now blows through.
Gone from your shores,
alone on an island of myself.
No desire for more.
I am province, I am proof
that growth is blue.
Love is not to abuse,
and happiness is not you.

He was a morning lullaby,
and I, a sleepless night.
So, lay in my bed hypnotized
fading and felt right.
Down in the lawn
early dew,
I lean against the steady pecan,
the only stable thing I ever knew.
Silken sheets
and rosy eyes
I am a set piece
in a game of lies.
Sometimes, think I've up and died
at the waking shore.
Yes, he be a morning lullaby,
come to sing once more.

Eyes of hazel
she is April,
showering all my days,
she is killer, I am Abel.
Evil; in her ways.
Walking backwards,
the sweet disaster.
And teases like
a winter's blackbird.
Mirrors,
where I see her
how they make,
make things clearer.
Pacing down familiar stairs
chanting old, empty prayers,
looking for ghost of months gone by
here she come, there she lie.

I never wanted to reply
with truth.
You lose me,
I am loose.
Of ships in bottles
trapped in a forever sail,
bitter air
inhaled.
Perfume and closed curtain
in my solitude,
hope you aren't hurting.

Gnarled heart
growing apart
from all I hold dear.
Branches to ribs, oh spears.
I am overgrown
yet never let alone,
twigs and leaves all split my bones.
Outside, looks so trim
but I cannot let him in.
Twisted beyond what is grim.
Forest forever,
wish a man luck on his endeavor
to cleave a gnarled heart down.

As I walk an all too quiet house
glass under my feet,
I look for the whereabouts,
the place my sanity retreats.
A temple modeled after my greatest intentions
and point of all attention.
I hear the clocks
ticking, a warning - looking, a response.
Reminding my woes
of the sky I'll never know.
This home is made of memories
not concrete nor tile or trees.
Built off of everything I want to be,
how I devote my character to thee.
Silence,
my only tyrant.
My pain and misery,
deliver me
from this toxicity.
Come back, knock at the door
anything to make it louder once more.