Full circle

Things come full circle again,
am I that girl still?
Fifteen and wrapped with insecurities,
Stale cigarettes and tired melodies,
nostalgic outings of the mind,
reality's come and gone and lost.
Somewhere in time. . . .
Frenzied and reckless,
sitting here again and wondering,"why"?
Still have the scars on my arm,
I can see them in the setting sun,
and there's still a few beneath.
When did I last bend my knees?
How did I arrive here so embittered?
Did I ever have a chance?
On the outside I am "mama","honey",
ordinary citizen, bordering on mundane,
inside I am that girl again.
Polished skin and tarnished heart,
tough and soft, all at once,
Is there anyone to hold me?
I run my hands through someone else's tangles,
and wipe away someone else's tears,
catching them midway,
as if to say they never existed.
I hold my own till night falls.
I am still a child inside.
When did everyone decide it was ok
to rely on me?
Sometimes it seems like there is a secret audience,
watching me fail.
Maybe I imagine that to be God.
I'm still sitting on the train tracks with
an Arizona tea and a blow pop in hand,
staring in the eyes of love,
watching a tired woman and her children,
and vowing to never become her.
And yet I have...
I'm picking up used cigarettes off the dirty
streets like candy,
I'm dreaming that everything is about to change,
that I am teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
I'm sitting in drainage pipes,singing songs to God,
I'm pouring equal parts of ink and blood on paper.
I'm cradling my guitar, that now lies in dust..
I am free,unchained, and only slightly jaded.
Ah,the gifts of youth,when ignorance was bliss.
I am naive and foolish.
I am her all over again.
There's always more then meets the eye..

Framed and Dried

I remember the two butterflies encircling our heads while we kissed,
do you?
I remember sitting there in the dried grass,
and the sun beating down on our heads,
on a summer day.
I remember the innocence of our passion.
I remember you asked if I could see them too,
as we briefly opened our eyes to take a breath.
Maybe they were you and I,in a different time.
Perhaps they were God's prophets from heaven.
I remember your lips and the taste of your mouth,
as they fluttered around a love so unprepared for tragedy.

"And is it right, butterfly?
They like you better framed and dried"

They pinned us down didn't they? They had their nets of reason and doubt.
It'd be more peaceful if they could just clip our wings,
contain our beauty,
and mount us on a wall somewhere.
Once framed and dried,
we can hang silently,
preserved in faded colors.
Motionless and trapped in time,
unmoving and forever changed.
Never to be in flight again...
Where is the garden that once nourished us?
Where has the flower of our love gone to?
Surely they've forgotten how beautiful we once were . ..
Can death compare to life?
They like us better framed and dried.
I hope they are happy now...

It's Been Years Now My Love

It's been years now my love.
Why are you standing here?
I have been to your funeral a thousand times.
I have already lowered you into the cold earth of reality.
I have left my sentiments like roses by your grave.
I have covered your face and closed your eyes with my own hands.
I've embalmed you in the corners of my mind and I've enshrined you
in the depths of my heart.
So why are you standing here love?
I have visited your grave and said my final farewell.
Do I not deserve to rest myself?
Though your shallow grave holds you for this moment,
I've held you in my thoughts a thousand times.
I have moved the earth above you with the flood of my own tears.
The memory of you is resurrected in my mind.
I bury you time and again.
I've clothed myself in black,
and allowed myself to grieve.
I've fed myself to full and drank my wine to be merry once more.
I've known laughter without you,and I've seen beauty apart from your memory.
Still,you never rest in peace,
and it seems I will never be at peace with your rest.
Like someone gone mad,in the earth of my mind,I bury you every day.
But I can never bury you deep enough.
I fear you will never die.
Will the ghost of you ever cease to exists?
Will I forever be haunted by the warmth of our last kiss?
The love we had together refuses to breathe its last,as if it is immortal.
The memories themselves are conspiring against me,
ignoring the reality of time.
All of you remains love.
I have no strength to bury you again- but I must.
As I lower you into the cold earth,
I will only take a few steps away,
before I turn around and see you standing there again.
And I can hear my own voice asking,
"How are you still so alive?"