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What are you waiting for?
The things she says and gives to you;
she said and gave them to me, too.
Yet since I ripped her hooks from me
I bleed from wounds I cannot see.
I do what's right but I do it all wrong.
I'll hurt all my life, try to go on.
I am one of her tattered dolls behind her many secret walls.
She's a collector
An emotional specter
She keeps you plugged in even when you disconnect her.
She gives you a name
Says she feels the same
She breaks your defenses as part of the game.
How long has she played?
For years I'm afraid.
Her toys piled in closets, neglected and frayed.
She acts a good care
But she's only there
Long enough to make sure her toys land in her lair.
Couldn't watch her be a hypocrite
or see her go numb as she lay in her pit.
My heart is still split and I chomp at the bit
but at least I don't suffer as a voyeur to it.
Constantly led from behind,
she set all the rules that were often unkind.
My soul in a bind and my teeth often grind
My door is still open but I lowered the blind.
Paper thin, I dragged my feet
and dried my glistening eye.
I hanged my head, cold and dead,
at the place where I would die.
With none who would see me
get covered with earth
I took one more step
with all I was worth.
The weight on my back
made one step become two.
I ran with the strain
as was all I could do.
I couldn't turn back
to return to my death
and the chains flew as ribbons
in the wake of my breath.
Life filled my lungs
and blood filled my brain.
The burden I bore
is a runaway train.
My hands were like lead
now they raise to the sky
and with hope they dry love
from my glistening eye.
Glimpse
Emotions new
are memories old
and moments that we cannot hold.
We feel for only
seconds brief
then feelings turn to faint belief.
We are not what
we used to be
for what we are is presently.
Your sight will slowly
change with you
and what you held, you now just view.
Take every detail
you can now
before it's all different somehow.
The fleeting seconds
of today
are barely here then gone away.
My fantasies, though soundly sleep
stir quite awake in me.
My fingers linger twixt letters yet,
they never hit a key.
Guitar, the love my hands address
the body my arms hold,
sang warmly at her neck's caress.
Tonight her voice is cold.
This chair is jail. This house a tomb.
That bed is the abyss.
Could suffering cease if just my cheek
suffered but a kiss?
