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As Morning PaintsFalling out of starlightI stretched within my bedwith sleepy eyes and dreamy smilesand hair mussed on my headSunlight warmed my windowpainting light upon my skingentle ray-dreams of shining goldsoothed shadows deep withinMy lashes fluttered one last timeand kissed my cheek goodbyeI thought of how you looked last nightand softly breathed a sigh'Twas time to rise from slumber's armsand greet my busy dayas morning's lazy happinessbegan to fade awayTwisting tendrils of cotton sheetscaressed my naked skinas I turned to see your smile I knewmy day could wait to begin.
A Concertgoer Talebuild up slowlywaiting for this inevitable rushstanding therehave to keep my spotstill another hour yetbut I won't movenot until they tell me it's overdon't want some overdressed teenyboppergetting in front of meand screaming like a bansheelights going downthen flaring for a moment as they take their placeseveryone is suddenly fixedcrazycrowding, pushinghave to stand like a rockdon't want to falllike a surfer under a too big wavecrushed beneath the soaring emotionsand sweaty bodiesthey're right therealmost close enough for me to touchbut I can't scream loud enoughand I can't make them notice me(why would they?why would I want them to?Thousands just like me are hereevery night it's the samepick of the female litter they getporcelain faces and big-chested bodieswithout a brain anywhere in the mixbut I digress! hehe)the sound is pounding inside my headcan't hear anything but themand a whole arena of usscream our approval and bellow the wordsto the songs
I Write Of -out walking in the parksee a baby girlwith eyes the color of sapphire starsshe smiles at meand grips my finger as if it was a lifelinewhile her mother fusses over her ruffled dressso I writeof purity's innocencea mother's prideand the birth of hope.sitting in a restaurantwatching two lovers arguethey throw knivesthat can never be retrievedand wallow in the darkest side of loveso I writeof the ways love can cut usand the lengths we go tojust to have the blade pass us bydelving into the depthsof the heart I call my owni sort and shape things i hide thereand try to mold myselfinto something better than what I amso I writeof the liquid shadows that lurkthe sunshine that comes now and againand the tomorrows that will surely fly past mewithout so much as a whispered goodbyeunless I stopto write of them.
This Drinkmy fingertip slides along the rim of my glasstracing the circle of a foreverI wanted to have with youthe ice cube inside melts as i watchreleasing itself like I didbecoming less, disintegrating as istir my finger inside the drinkfeel the cold liquid of defeat as it swirlsand i taste the bitterness of failureclinging to my fingertip like a nightmarethat was far too realdrink it down and feel the burnget up and walk awayquicklybefore I order another.I was drinking from a broken glass anyway.