The End.

& in the end

I’m here alone.

Nursing

My wounded heart.

That artificial

Lullaby, your voice

Plays softly in my head

Over again, again.

Yet,

I think

I’m still falling

for you.

16,11,11

laying in the front yard on the lawn under neath the stars, the autum leaves come falling down; much like these walls. The unrest of thw wind blowing, speaking to the trees as they sway back and forth together. Its that fresh musty smell that keeps you intised & suddenly everything you know the wind has taken away. The ice air begins to bite & crawl its way at your ears, leaving what everyone else says unheard. Its winter now, & all you want is to feel warmth wherever or whoever it may come from, because your heart is starting to go cold. So bring the hot chocolate & I'll get the blanken, and we'll lay lazily under the stars. How deep is dark? How high are the stars? My fingers go cold & nothing to do but forget the rest & mellow out. Mellow like the sheet that covers the sun at night, that we hide under at every chance we get, so insignificant yet the change is undenyable. However I am left sitting in my room, staring at blank walls & try to imagine my future but they arent really anything other than what I see.

& tonigh I will have a drunk heart

Forever
How long is forever?
Forever is an empty,
impractical promise.
We promise forever everyday:
I’ll love you forever,
it will last forever–
but fate takes these faulty promises
and warps them into cruel, tasteless jokes.
How do you promise to love forever
when desire drifts about is
like steam; crawling up our spines
and into our minds, causing our
tongues to betray, our minds to forget,
and our hearts to shut down.
How do you promise to be here forever
when the gnarled fingers of
death are no more than an outstretch away,
threatening to reach out and grasp us by the throat–
rattle our teeth and choke us of air– at any given moment.
How can you promise something will last forever
when change happens every second
of every minute
of every day.
From the sunrise to sunset, to the sweeping tides that
erase padded prints in the sand;
from the shapes in the clouds to the roots of a tree
that warp together with age,
nothing stays the same for long.
Please don’t promise me bitter lies of forever,
when all I will ever really want is today.