They Could Be Lyrics, But They Are Just A Poem.

Between the night and the fine line,
Just before the sky bursts into sunshine,
I think of you and I remember,
You liked a song about September,
Born and died in October.                                                                                                                          It took two days for you to know it was over,
We didn't have much of a history,
But we loved, like some great mystery.

To be able to sit and stare at trees for hours,
To notice every single yellow flower,
While you held my hand in the sunset,
These things I can never forget.
So many things I can't recall,
But even so, I still revere it all.
Maybe I will recall some day,
My heart will break the rest of the way.

When the flood of you and I washes over me,
I still know of us, my favorite memory,
So if you can see me typing this,
It was that night of daisy curtained, bliss.
The light from someone's porch in your room,
Waves crashing over us, forgetting the gloom,
Of a life not your own,
Of a life not my own.

We lived for others and their demands,
But with each screech, we came to understand,
That we wouldn't want that for ourselves,
Even if we lived in servitude, called help.
You were the only one who got me to dream,
Now I traverse a life, that is a constant scream.
They think they know, they think they see,
But clowns are their best in the midst of misery.

The trees whisper to me, that they see me,
I wonder why I still breathe,
Through this thick disguise,
Brought by your demise,
and things I despise,
No surprise,
Life never had for me, any slack,
But you filled me, no getting that back.

I can still hear your voice calling me,
Your eyes following me,
Here, there, everywhere,
and now, it's not really anywhere.
Living amongst them all, by myself,
I keep you in my room upon a shelf.
I remember you in each mountain laurel bloom,
Deep in the confines of my silent room.

You told me if you died, you wanted me to be loved like you love me,
I am sorry for those that came after, but they lack the intensity,
They lack the knowledge and care,
They lack a beautiful hazel stare,
Blonde hair shining like gold in the light,
and stolen kisses in the first nights.
But, they offer what they can to me,
I hold onto it quietly, and yet, greedily.

Life gives you what it does,
Sometimes it's enough,
But most of the time it's hell in a box,
and a hole in the toe of your socks,
People throwing words like jagged rocks,
and liars thinking they are clever like the fox.
So tired here without you,
Just doing what I have to.

Until I can see you again in the rain,
and no longer hold this world with disdain.
It's a joke on a gag reel from hell,
Although the part is played quite well,
and I found heaven on earth one day,
I will reside there some day,
I found you there in the water, sky and trees,
Meet me there when I die, if you please?

I  find bits and take pieces when I can,
Surrounded by no one that understands,
and working with a passel of fakes,
egomaniacs and flakes.
Not how I want to spend my time,
Composing a very sad attempt to rhyme,
That the pictures in my head unwind,
If only the words would flow from my mind.

I consider an ant, a spider, the rain on the street,
I contemplate when my life will be complete,
or should I say, when I will cross the finish line,
and head straight for you amongst the Divine?
But right now, it's time to look in on them,
I learn so much from them,
So outside the norm, but so linear, and kind,
Those with the extreme diversity of thinking and minds.