when she wallows in melancholy
she goes beyond..
what is expected,
hardened,
drowned,
and she passes by everyday
with her head down.
shoe laces untied and dirty,
hair uncombed,
tears welling up on those
black, shadowed eyes..
who could have known her optimism died
with her pride?
Still there feathers waver by thy side,
Without the trembling sight of my eyes?
Still the sinew of thy wings undiminished,
Treads the air with sprightly ease?
The treasures of the layered past,
Some glittering and some dim, be cast.
Alone shall thy evanescent wind
Bear my quavering pen holding hand.
Look what she made me
A fool in a car
She drives me to heaven
I fall under a star
Life isn’t mercy
or food on a stick
its harder than cherry stones
but you don’t get to pick
The future is the domain
of the cool
but living for the past
the mistakes of old rules
is somebody else
its someone else
not I
my furniture is not that colour
look what she made me
a fruity iced cake
she holds it still and inviting
on a shiny white plate