You've got my heart

yet you couldn't read me

Even if you tried.

Try. Try.

Won't you, try?

And you've got my tongue,

But you wouldn't speak for me.

If I cried.

Cry, cry.

Would you cry?

'Cause you, know me

How I used to be, how we used to be

Yeah, you, you own me

But only how I used to be.

Only the old me.

-------------

We might shed some tears with your name,

But we still smile with your memory

Because though our hearts are broken, they are forever full

And pouring endlessly, together, as the blanket weaved from your spirit

You keep us warm

And strong

Stronger yet then we were, yesterday.

I dream of painting your body with all the words y heart holds for you.

A pastel blanket of love, and lust.

Passion and heartbreak, smiles and tears, and kisses

You could lay asleep, or awake and dreaming

And never feel my eyes dance across your skin, peering deeper than just your superficial beauty

I'm soaking in everything that makes you, you.

And suddenly, you start making me, me.

You build me up from the centre, but the taller you build me, the faster I feel I must climb; to keep up.

I'm not certain I have what it takes to be worthy of even the dream of you.

A messy pile of thoughts - just wrote/typed/added - it's a mess, but I want it for later.

I can only dream my name onto your lips, and your breath onto my skin.

So you must accept my apology that forever and I have never been friends.

He was like the moon.

Ever changing, yet always calm

Sometimes not there to my eyes,

but somewhere on the canvas.

You are like my sky,

Always there and ever adding, or taking away.

I remind myself I am human if only just to relieve myself the pressure of being the best me I've ever been.

Like I can't handle that role.

I know he wanted me to be that role, and I cracked into your sunlight where I lay in the grass and be small.

I want to apologize, all the time.

Maybe I kiss you, too much.

Some days I say too little.

Like I'm a burden to your comfort, if I squeeze you too tight.

Or lay too close.

Or breathe too heavy.

I'll rub your feet, while my toes ache

And make you dinner - or maybe order you dinner.

Because I burnt a pot, like I always seem to.

I'm no good at that either. Sorry.

I didn't mean to make you wonder

Or worry, when I was late that night.

The bus was full, but I didn't want to ask you away from home.

God forbid I need your help when it might inconvenience you

... That wasn't bitterness.

Or at least it wasn't bitterness, at you.

My chest carries pain and guilt, neither of which you built.

Uncertainty and weakness. - neither of which you feed.

No, but they're still around me. And around you.

Sorry about that baggage.

I was brought up in a world where I was, indeed, quite inconvenient.

A child is to be seen, not heard.

A woman is to be useful, and fragile.

A sister is to be supportive,

sometimes to play the role of Mom.

Sometimes the play the role of therapist.

Because little brother's break too.

But a man is not supposed to do that at all. So he struggled.

And the day he passed, he left me with his baggage too.

I know, that's all so long ago. So why do I carry these heavy bags still?

I know, that's all so long ago - so why do I carry these heavy thoughts now?

I grew out of my home, and out of that energy.

I grew into a tree that stood alone, amongst flowers.

Not very pretty, nor as bright.

Strong, yet every winter, whatever growth I had sprouted will fall from my branches and leave.

Every winter I feel lonely.

I didn't know why I felt lonely, but after a few summers, a few loves - I became attached to the feeling of being someone's someone.

Of being, Someone.

Didn't matter if I was lonely. It mattered that I was seen.

And you found me.

You are my second shot at my first love.

Poetry is my Therapy

It's where I can process my pain and spread out my tears

Over so many words, pain from so many years

I hate to address it, Or let my past twist me.

But the more I push past it, the more its convincing,

My heart that it's broken, my mind that it's small

I am not worthy, of the love that we fall -for

Truth be told, you're my second crawl - for

that first love that crushed me, before he had hushed me

Silenced all that I could be, or could Have been.

I am not worthy to think that I can Be.

I write to apologize, and then to remember

I swoon for you and break for you

I bend for you and mend for you

Because I trust that my love is safe, with you

I know that it's heavy - my heart in my chest

I hope that it's lighter, when laid in yours, for rest

I'm sorry if it hurts, every time that we kiss

And I'm sorry for all of the beats that its missed.

If my tears touch your cheek, I'll wipe them away

But I still need you close, please would you stay?

Could you hold my hands, in the palms of your own,

and wait with me longer - don't leave me alone.

At her strongest, the wind is never truly heard

In the wake of a tornado, you take shelter on the outskirts

Watch from afar as Mother Nature picks up a house.

But it is not the sound of her crimes that enters your ears,

It is your own shaking knees that you feel.

As you crumble to the sound of the crashing,

The devastation around her scares you, perhaps you flee.

Perhaps you see, what's left over of her

What is was is already gone.

And in the beach, you lay in a homemade bed.

Salty air in your mouth, sunshine in your vision.

Sand in your fingers, listening to the roaring of the waves in front of you.

The slap of the water, the rash of the white cap

You missed the whispers in the wind as she combed atop the sea.

You missed the embrace she blankets atop the earth

Because you feel your own heart and forget to listen to hers.

Whistling through the windows, flapping of your gutters

Powerful yet unseen.

Nobody can wrap around your body like she does.

You may not even feel it if she's gentle enough.

If she's warm enough.

She's everything, and nothing.

I call her Love.

Life is like swimming, and people are stuck.

They're treading the waters, relying on luck.

They aren't joining forces, they aren't looking for land.

It's one against one, there's no brave in command.

All of us entitled to opinions and a voice, but forgetting

Entirely, about the education and choice

All of us louder than ever before, but forgetting to listen

Drifts us further from shore.

Twice as many ears as people, thrice as many eyes.

Bellies grow and bloat, and gorge and we still eat up new lies.

How the world runs on money,

we must work to remain free.

So we work, and work

With bleeding heart, and cauterize with greed.

If only we could stop, and see the struggles of our neighbour

We could help each other taste, again

The fruits of all our labour.

Now we look to stronger youth, seeded deep within our wreckage

They grew a skin as tough as nails, to survive in the world they salvage.

A younger boy still, not too broken to dream

His eyes still clean from media feed

He watches the water, crossing on boat

The waves beneath him, help him float.

She is everything. So much of everything that I forget the world doesn't see what I do.

"What the world needs now, is love"

But it doesn't see my love - if it did, it would be enough. Because she is everything.

If the world saw how brown her eyes are,

or how wide they become when she's listening...

If the world knew how soft her touch was,

even when she's dreaming - especially, when she's dreaming.

She would be enough.

Hell, if she saw how fast my heart can race, just when she kisses me goodnight

Or good morning

Or, at all...

If she heard the rush of blood that heats me when she holds my hand,

Or pets my skin, looks at me for no reason...

I could be enough.

Because she is everything.

If everyone else could feel just a glimpse, just a sample

of how strong I feel when my knees are weak, just from standing beside her

She would be enough. Because She is everything.

What the world needs now is not love, but just the acceptance of love

Simply the open eyes and arms and hearts,

to the idea that love does not belong to just one person

Love does not follow a rule of where, or how to be shared.

So why are we following a rule of how it is to be seen?

How is the world so far behind that they cannot see,

she is everything.

Simply because she stands beside me.

Me, who is also a "she".

And that makes us 'nothing'

The world doesn't see our love, and doesn't accept our love.

The world sees nothing - but she. She is everything.

This isn't a write - but it is a place for me to leave some ideas. This website is where I'm keeping old diaries/thoughts/notes, that I wanted to keep but not on paper floating around the world :P... So this is one of my ideas I've started, but having trouble getting it going.

During sleep paralysis, it is your soul that is remembering a past life and going back (or trying to go back). What you view during sleep paralysis is usually the last moments of your past life before you died. (Or perhaps the moment of unfinished business that your soul still thinks about in your new life)

But Your soul has been renamed (to your current name) if you are ever in a deep enough paralysis that you hear your name being spoken, it is usually your current name - but occasionally, your soul is so connected to the memory that you hear your last given name from said past life and become confused about who you are.

Your current soul stepping foot into your past life's vision/placement, sometimes gets confused as a 'ghostly' encounter by those people surrounding your past life's body - that's what a 'ghost' is.

As a traveling soul, from time frame to time frame, sometimes souls get stuck and turn into 'lost' ghosts who forget their name because both bodies from both times have passed while the soul was outside them. And now it is externally damned.

----

Soul visits past life, lady draws 'me in' . She's perfect. I need to touch her. She's sleeping, and I can feel her - but she can't feel me. I pet her skin, and watch her goose bumps raise. She smiles.

Suddenly she starts to touch herself, and I feel as though we might be making love.

Maybe she does feel me?