From Your 'Secret' AdmirerHeaven,this is not a love letterI will swear to God, with a halo on my headand a hole in my heart. But the fact is I revere you more than I have any right to.After all, we are nothing exceptwell-acquainted strangers who have awkward conversations.So why is it that every time the linefalls silent I panic, worrying that your shadowwill make my efforts nothing but a distant memory,when every word you speak strongly marks my mind?Simple: I fear having something to lose and losing the nothing I have. You are treasure to me, and this note becomes my confession. Sincerely- I typed this, but I'm sure you'll recognize the handwriting.
After the FallWhere teardrops have fallenflames will also rise,they are invisible angelsobvious in demon eyes.
it isn't geniustruth isI am not yourperfect imitation of ends the means could justifyI lie I speak where words would make silence beg "bravery is much like a run-on sentence"speak not.keep thesememories in between your left index finger and thumb when feeling numb,releasefeelings that will warm youin the winter, chill your bones in a summer heat. lonelylettersto bedried like petals,jailed by secrets writtenin some guilty tome. prodigyundead.
A Freshwater Soulyou didn't dream he'd tear blank walls, whipfurled fists let partly tattered tales slipearly echoes, and allowthe lonely ships to sink, baring bows.sail sea. river removeyourself far forth. prepare to provethat you can keep a gruelling grip.
she's broken, but he always breaks thingshis eyes were deep and she dived into them sound-less of a dream and more truthful is the factthat even before she flew or fell, she'd drownedthe protective shell grew on her with a crackthat let the tide pull her heart to the bottomand caused her open soul to fully retracthe remained placid, he stayed rested and calmas the core of her sunk into depths unknowna conscience as guiltless as it could becomeand up through the cold floor, her red shoots have shownstill pulsing and beating and trapped behind bones.
How to be Found in Eleven Simple Steps1. Understand that you must be willing to give up the fragile solitary universe you created from the instructions given on page three.2. Spend more time building from the ground up. It will take longer, but you'll like the result.3. Rest when you are weary and remember the times when you were strong, hear that strength in every word that you speak.4. Keep in mind that you are human, and that survival is weighed against life more heavily. You are survival. Life is your goal. If you disagree, move to step 5. If you agree, skip to step 6.5. Return to 4 and repeat until you believe.6. Live not in fear of doing something you'll regret, but in order that you won't regret not having done something.7. Leave for home and release the heartache. It is not your home now. You are a wandering spirit.8. Taste the different air in every footstep, weigh the light that feeds your shadow, and take comfort in your solitary walk...9. See the countless colored souls that walk about, and how eac
Mourningand I still don't knowwhat was on your mind, when the bullet struck, or if you felt any pain before you fell and the world went dark or if there was some sort of peace...though I've heard it's difficult to sleep when covered in blood.but I know nowhow precious and fragile a thought can be when just seconds are the difference between life and death.I don't knowif you saw any lights,or some other kind of angel coming down for youI often wonder if you spoke before you died: your voice is the only part of youthat the world could not chain, so I'll hold on to the fadingechoes of your words for as long as I can.but I know nowwhat separates sympathyempathy and pity and that being sorry for a loss doesn't make anything better it never did or will.I don't know when the end came or when they deci
enduranceyour words, why should they be so small?are you an ant-like Atlas caving beneath the weight of neverending skies? a hundred times a thousand. and you, little loyal son of his dead memories floating on her shifting oceans,why should your voice be so soft? why should you tread on tiptoeacross cracks in this mortal armor where a child would boldly speak aloud,fearless of stray sparks among dry timber? "you are the stubborn, weary feet that march forever on."
destiny not includedat the core we are all exactly who we're meant to be.as for the rest, it changesincrementally while effective forces slap, shine, and scrape our rough surfaces into their most depressed shapesbut it's up to us what we'll dowith the bare-boned instructions each package includes
Today in the mirror...Hidden in the mirrortoday I saw a shadow,wearing all the thingsI used to dream of...Hidden in the mirrortoday I saw a face,with eyes full of hopeand hands full of dreams.She's been gone such a long time!As I looked closer to this stranger,the colors got brighter and clear.All became familiar,the smiles even when there was tears,the little fingers that craved creation.The wonder in those eyes was immense!Before they were slowly darkenedby the realities,that were not so brightand not so colorful.Today hidden in the mirrorI saw those eyes before the pain,before all those things,That brought us sadness.Today in the mirrorI saw who I was,who I was meant to be.And the shadows in the mirror,begun to dissipate.In their place stood out,all my hopes with shaking hands.Handing over my forgotten dreams,with a smile asking to once again,be reunited with my heart,to give my life a brighter day,to give my dreams a place to stay...Today in the mirrorI found myself
I'll Never sayI'll Never SayThere's things I'll never sayCan I kiss your perfect lipsCan I be allowed to love you the way I do?but maybe one day I'll be okWhen I'm alone all I do is think of youWhen I'm with you all I wanna do iskiss your so plump lipsBut I'll never say thisTo me you're perfectYour eyes, lips, smile, laugh, body, personalityEverything about you I find so hauntingeven though I know you'll never knowI want to sleep in your armsLook straight into your eyesMaybe one say I'll get that kissMaybe one day I'll stop hurting(C) Heather Stewart
BarriersI wish that I could tell youExactly how I feel about youEmotions are hardBut words are harderTo communicateYou think that no one caresNo one could be botheredTo talk to youTo comfort youTo love youThis couldn't be anyFarther from the truthI will always be thereIn one form or anotherI hope you understand thatSometimes,SomethingsAre justBetterLeftUnsaid
For YouDarling, I would still write you poems.I'd fill lines and pageswith such sentiments, one could feel the loveas if it were conveyed to them alone.I'd capture this moment in the phrases and expressionson the worn page.Give you chillsas my literary fingers slide down your face.Watch your eyes closeas the letters encase you gently.I'd show you the diamond I foundwhile digging through the coal mine.I'd write about the black on my fingersas I uncovered the luster beneath.Tell you of the fortune I gained by never selling it.My dear, I would still write you poems when I'm old,and thoughts stumble out of my mouth like an illiterate fool were saying them.I'd let the words flow out like a river through the pen.I'd watch the letters on the page, once again,wrap around you, encase you, hold you in their shakily written inklike they held you when we were young.
TomorrowI thought I was fineThat life was goodAnd I was happyThen it struck againLike an old enemyIt rolled into my beingThis dark cloud of despairThis angel of deathThis stifler of joyThis depressionIt left me asking questionsQuestions about my purposeAbout my lifeIf the few people I've touched really matterIf life is worth the livingSo many questionsSo few answersAnd only an emptiness left in its wakeAll I can do now is sleepBut I know I shall rise again tomorrowSo tonight I'll prayfor a betterTomorrow
Corrupt BitchTough love, she sings to me.Of melancholy misery.Her hair flows down to her withering waist.While straying strands frame her porcelain face.Angel of darkness, she serenades me.Of desperate times and tragedy.With a soft voice full of sorrow,She wallows in the hope of a million tomorrows.Broken soul, she belts out to me,Of a bitter, and cruel parody.Eyes that glow with a venomous fire.Deceitful witch, I claim she's a liar.The little minx, she whispers to me.The realization, the sweet clarity.Each word she speaks, she spits at me,She mocks me, and belittles me!Manipulater, she screams at me,Betrayal and vulgarity.Furious I've managed to stay strong,I sent her cocaine heart where it belongs.
Cute LimerickA cat and mouse live in my houseand I each day they tend to rouse,chasing each other all aroundwaking me with fighting sounds,but never do wake up my spouse.