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| speak and I hear my voice
and its tickling my ear
its repeating itself
anticipating the tomorrow
not the reaction
digging deeper into the earth
where the roots tangle
can't tell them from my hair
pick at the paper holes
and fiddle with the settings
because the swirling gaps are growing wider
and its a loss of waking hours
find meaning in the way the head turns
and the shadow before me
and listlessly amble behind
trailing fingers in the clouds
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| Bringing it back.....
I need to start writing again.
You were
You were
you were in the field
the clouds and the glare
the buzz of the late afternoon
the distant hint of the highway
You were
You were
the smell right before rain
the dark of the clouds
and the eye of the storm
You were
You were
the quiet of the night
the pink of the morning
the string of stars in the trees
You were
You were
Day and night, weeks and years
You were the months gone by
The time, the sound
The music in my head
You were
You were
beauty
pain
You were
in my head
my heart
You were.
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| Its across the way
I'm in full view and
You're in the shadows
And I feel like you can see me
Even from far below
But I can't make out anything
Its only every other month
Or day, or week
And so I still can't tell shadow from look
Because what I feel and
What is really there
Is always two completely opposite factors
But it does make my heart sigh
Smile even.
Making it almost worth it
But please don't, please don't,
Stand in front of me. Don't block my view.
Because that only fuels it.
Fuels the thumping bass line
The patter of butterflies
And the smile that plays in my writing
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| You're my invisible,
My nighttime phantom
(not of the opera, that movie was crazy)
You sweep down inside
My thoughts and my head
Render me pathetic
Because you're not there
Nights are blurred and my pillows gone flat
Sheets are red and damp with tears
And it seems like you're the hero of my dreams
But like every super-hero
You're not to be had or found
You're my heart and hand
It's empty and still
(like winter in my little town)
I feel as though
I'm hangin by my last hair
Damsel in depression
Because noone saves the distressed
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| I've got bug bites on my knees
and couples love to hang with just couples
but singles hang with anyone
And days that it storms in the summer are delightful
But during the school year its sad
Girls obsess over such silly things
And I strive for perfection when noone demands it
But I still hear that voice inside
Being the lone girl
The face behind the lens
With bug-bites on my knees.
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