My Widowed HeartMy love for you was something I can't saythe reason of my breath, the light of my dayI'll never find someone like you used to beI'll never recover the part of you missing in meWhen I listen to our song, I still sing along...Though I'll never understand why it went so wrongI had never felt that a sentiment could be so trueWhat will I do once I can no longer count on you?Will I ever overcome this loss and the pain?Will I ever hold you in my arms again?I pray that I will up wake from this nightmare,look at you, feel you near, see that you still care.I'll always miss all of you, every single part.Rest in Peace, while I try to heal my widowed heart.
Dreaming? (Message in Silence)Late at night...is this it what I feel?Am I only dreamingor is it real?Your hand gentlyresting on my hipsand your feverish mouthplants a kiss on my lips.Your body close to mine,exchanging warmth...Awaken, I'd feel my body burning;dreaming, so is my heart.Isn't it insanea moment like this?You, here, so close,and I can't give you kiss.Why am I so tired?Why I feel so numb?Please, wait just a little more, dear,the day is about to come.
Please Don't Go"We put things in the ground to grow"I saidI sat at a parkbenchwith my cane at my sidefingers dancingalong the frameof my legwhen a girlsatwith me"Then why do we bury people?"I shot a glancetowards my feetand lookedat her bright rubyslippers tap your shoes three times and sayyou want to go home "so that they can grow."I looked at her,her handrummagingand handingout breadcrumbsdeep in thought."Why would they need to grow when they're dead?"my eyebrowscrinkled at the questionthen I spoke"a seed starts from the ground, but unlike that, that is where we end. We grow for our death to become real to others."the girl smiledand then graspedfor my handbut itfell throughI am her grandfatherI am a ghost.
LearningI discover more about you,you teach me what love is.I unveil hidden knowledgeeverytime you give me a kiss.The most genuine wonderwhen you caress me softly.Could you help me to discerndream from reality?All the ways to love you,so different from all I knew.I want do discover everything...loving you is just so new!
SkinI watch,I touch,and I understand.I taste stress in your sweat,tension stretched on the surface,so visiblein the landscape of yourback.I feelknots in your muscles,like pearls undersatin.I'll untie the ropesand kiss the blankred ribbonsof your broad browand I'll writeyou letterson my chest,things like silver liesand soft secrets,and wires of frigid truthbecause the truth ismy veryskindemands you.so kiss me back,strike a pose,be a bodyand let our bodiesjuxtapose like slow jazzand your fragile ears.take a deep breathof me andexhale yourselfas you tell youraching body that I miss it too
Told myself it wasn't loveI told myself it wasn't love -I was afraid of loving you:rejection hurts more than a tired heartfor it squeezes all emotions from your soul,leaving you bare against reality's blank slate -a state of invisibility and loneliness.I called upon my friend, Time,to help me forget you, only you...Yet with every passing moment,you plague my thoughtswith your humour and wit,and I realise that I haven't forgotten -I haven't forgotten you.Turns out Time betrayed me,so I gave Distance a callto evict you from my heartyou unknowingly lived in.Oh, Distance tried, oh yes she did,but you just couldn't be moved,for you were so deeply rootedin my garden of love for you.I told myself it wasn't loveand I tried hard not to love youbecause you clearly loved another.I failed.And I'm sorry.
ResignationDowning milk like ginsleep fails me againdue to a heavy heart,an alliance torn apartThis hallow night aidesas the darkness invadesyour half of our flamenow doused by my shameI toyed with your handlike I did with our planstheir undoing, my faultwounds laced with saltI loved you; still dobut there is more to youthan this tragic little townand me holding you down
SlaughterhouseLots of people in the herd,fed daily by illusions.Rotten, sick, intoxicated, unaware.Feelings hurt,They compensate dreaming,justifying a false care.Slaughterhouse crowdedby voluntary victims.The massacre takes place now.Objects without ownermarching in fast rhythm,to be marked just like cows.
Pain InflamedI found a sheet of paperand filled it with my painwords then turned to ashesas the letter danced in flameThe pen dispersed my anguishshading once blank pages blackmy cramped, determined fingersfought to end hidden attacksA match struck at the cornersent my sorrows glowing brightthe dark swirls of redemptionspiraled to refreshing heightsRemains were sent to Heavenlifted upon a gentle breezemy fingers slightly blackenedmy troubled heart set free