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I try not feel
and I'm convinced that I don't.

But I do when I'm expected to
and I hide when I feel alone.

There's a pain from a blade
that you've carelessly drug through my skin.
A blade that's sharper than a razor
because of a life together that's been.

Once upon a time,
these scars would have healed
and smoothed over in time
as feelings died and congealed.

But they're still here
because memories can't relieve
the way you looked into my eyes
With a trust I still can't believe.

And my hopeless mind can't forget
How it would be nice
if everyday,
I spent every hour loving you
without question
without doubt
without fear of losing you.

Again

I think I've forgotten how to feel
and most days I'm great at it
because I want to forget
how you made me feel once upon a time.

Still, I'd love to visit you for a while.

I dream of being in the same city
and my subconscious is consumed by
the idea that somehow you'll want to see me again.

What I wouldn't do to see your face again.
My conscious mind hates LA,
but my sleeping brain roams it's crowded streets
searching for those eyes
and that feeling again.

I dream of the same beach
night after night.
It's always the same 8 blocks of sand.

I walk up and down
sand caking my calloused feet,
I hold hope that any moment
I'll see your foot prints in the sand.

I know that I don't know you anymore
so I keep running from the unexplained.
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again.

Mid Dream

I've been listening to your prayers and sobs
Echoing off my chamber walls at night

Begging and pleading me to control my temper
My fire
My breath
And stand by your side

Maybe a little hasty

As intoxication ran like water into an icy glass,
I inhaled,
I swayed,
I shuttered under my lover's frozen grasp.

And each time I tried to pull away,
Her fists burned my wrists
to make me stay.

A prayer of prose.
a ribbon of flattery
and words tied up in bows...

There's a dragon breathing down my neck.
Its fire stolen from its breath.
Broken, damaged, but not yet dead.
It's sorrow reminds me of the blood I've shed.

Tired,
Broken,
Beaten down,
These broken bones always seem to heal somehow.

Still,
Bones hide in sacs of blood and skin,
While these scars tell stories of pain and sin.

How I'd love to melt this body down,
smooth the scars,
mend the bruises life's delt.

Still,
I suppose it's the scars we gain,
and the pain we endure,
that mold us into the beings we're meant to be
when we're pure.

How I love myself and all of my scars.
I wouldn't trade an hour,
a second,
of my broken heart.

Because as long as the wine
runs deep and red through my veins.
Intoxication holds hope
that you'll thaw my heart again.