SayanoraDon't you dare shed another tear,
I don't want to hear another word from you, "dear".
Spare me from another one of your lies,
I'm seeing you from all new eyes.
You and me,
we weren't meant to be.
From the beginning,
all you did was hide behind your falsehoods,
I could never tell when a truth was told,
but my heart was yours to hold.
Life goes on,
But you're never winning me back,
when all you do is attack.
Don't accuse me of not caring,
don't accuse me of not being there,
and don't accuse me of breaking your heart.
I never set out to hurt you,
but it seemed like you did.
You changed me,
and I feel worse now
than I ever did.
And because of that,
I have to go.
I have a life to get back.
stay out of my life...
I'll meet her again...Its Samhain. The line between the spiritI'll meet her again...6 years ago in Sestina-ween More Like This
world and our own is a ray of moonlight.
Its the night when the reluctant soul sticks
to our plane, hovering - a withered rose
whose beauty is the figment of a dream;
a gleam gilding the surface of the lake.
For long hours of idyll would the Lake
poets revel in letting their spirit
soar free on the nightingales wings, and dream
of glimpsing their Muse clad in pure moonlight
but tonight magics afoot: clouds just rose
to blur the moon like fumes from incense sticks.
The Romantics habit of rambling sticks
to mind tonight, as I stroll to the lake
and sit down to recall the violent rows
wed have every night, before her spirit
gave itself over to the bland moonlight
and chose to rest and die, not live and dream.
But perhaps tis I thats strayed in a dream?
For in that small nest, fashioned out of sticks,
I see her visage, painted in moonlight.
I glimpse a lady traversing the
SamanthaSamantha5 years ago in Written Entries More Like This
"Not for all the roses in the world would I want to be with you."
That is what she had said to him. Then she had thrown away Leya, the most beautiful rose from his garden, whose broken, blood-red petals suddenly resembled his broken heart at her feet. His brains couldn't find words to describe what he felt, and even then his mouth would not have been able to pronounce them, so fatal was the shock of it all.
With empty hands and empty eyes John returned to his garden and sat down between his roses. Together they mourned for Leya, whom he had given away in this mad frenzy that humans called love.
Yes, John was human, too, but he did not understand the world that was meant to be his home. All he understood were roses, where the promise made by their beautiful looks never failed to apply to their personality also. They were his friends; he cared greatly for them. And this made the loss of Leya all the more painful.
The roses tried to console him, for although they missed Leya they didn't b