just not yet

one day, we'll sit beside our flower beds and watch the birds make homes from our trees

one day, we'll be happy with the lives we got to live

the shores that welcomed us

the broken hearts we patched and mended

the smiles and hopes we found

the memories we made into moulds that still hold us

one day when this is over.

and all that's left is a courtyard of windows

and the two of us watching our memoirs float on by

the fear

She pushed open the door, and peered into the Dark.

"I can't see you," she whispered.

(She couldn't remember why you took away her Light, and left her there, faltering.)

"You promised I'd find you here."

(She didn't know you were afraid.)

The door shut quietly behind her.

And you were the one left alone.

beneath it all

The leaves will rust. And they will fall.

They will crumble. And they will die.

They will become part of the earth that bore them.

Just as you and me.

There's a pattern to this madness, if we just could take a look.

There's a circle at the centre. And a meaning to the end.

We just haven't got there yet.

the stories we tell ourselves

I wear this letter around my neck because I need a bit of you to hold onto. And I know it's just reaching. Reaching into nothingness and trying to make alchemy out of base metals that were never even there.

But sometimes we need our lies. Even the ones we tell ourselves.

Sometimes, those are the ones we need to hold onto most of all.

listen

What will you do when they start fading?
When the colours begin to blur, and the lights go out?
There are new pictures on your walls now. And you hear different voices everyday.

But somewhere far behind your eyes, the music hasn't changed. No-one can hear the tunes you play, but that doesn't matter. You don't need them.

But you will.
When the music stops.

waiting for amnesia

Oneday:

I'll look back, and the hurthaze will have cleared.

I'll see the eyes I loved to drown in

(I won't remember the shutters you put up)

The way your smile sounded

(before you stopped calling)

And the peace that radiated from your soul

(until your missing backbone became obvious)

But not this day.

(not yet)

day one

Make it.

Count.