Really?

You stand and watch.
You see the sky and the birds and the tops of trees and you think, isn't this lovely.
You breathe in the pure smell of morning sun and you close your eyes for a little bit.
You are taken by the feeling, you want to run and jump.
You want to be free.

It is wonder that surprises you, wonder for what it would feel like, the last time you feel.
Would you cringe to the thud of uneven concrete on your skin, or sigh to the force of wind over your body, or perhaps smile with the adrenelin. And what might you taste?
You imagine it would be something similar to sour lemons mixed with grape juice, or cheese and vegemite and honey on toast. Would it smell nice?
Just like the breeze drifting through the strands of your hair.

You are distracted by a sound, a giggle and mumbling.
Something familiar but shocking.
You want to be sick when your eyes catch up with your ears and you finally realise.
It was all a joke.

You said once "Maybe this is a joke, but a nice joke, and I like it."
But did you really like it, if it is a joke?
I don't think so.

You become teary, and kick yourself because there is so much more to be teary about.
The horrifying events trickling through your life that freeze your soul as you squeeze your own hands.
You can't be brought to tears by something so ridiculous, so insignificant, such a joke.

And that's when you remember.
Something small, but so big and dominating that you shun away and cover your eyes in fear.
And you don't understand how you could have forgotten.

Some say love is a figment of the imagination, but you believe otherwise.
You have felt it streaming through your veins, and tumbling around in your bloated heart, and swirling through your mind and dancing in your thoughts, like an unbearably perfect headache.
And, you unfortunately still feel it.

And there he goes,
on with his life,
and you yours.
So, what's the problem?

You open your eyes and stare into a haze as crowded voices cloud your thoughts and they slowly drift away.
You bite your lip, nibble a bit, and walk away, in your awkward way.
Your life goes on, not parallel to his, but at an acute angle, just the wrong degree from where you need to be.
You whimper softly inside and walk on through life.

Seven Days

It's like trying to fall asleep with your eyes open;
Reading the words, feeling the emotions, understanding, and yet.
So she folded her arms and hummed a tune about black birds.

Something to make you uncomfortable;
The note in the distance, sounding as you involuntarily pound in sincopation.
Warm socks with cold toes and burning sweat, trickleing.
A secret, meaningless, yet untold, curious, without a care, angry.
Small pages, a tear, an apple, a friend. Lost for words, lost.
Walking towards a beautiful rainbow as it fades to nothing.
A kiss on the cheek: A punch in the concave of your chest.

Metaphor;
What if she rejects me?
She won't.
What if she turns me away?
She won't!
So, I approached her and asked if she was ok.
She's not.
She said it was fine.
She's lying.
Goodbye.
I love you.

Lots and lots of words;
Sorry.
Bagel.
Fountain.
Scarf.
Rain.
Tissue.
Cuddle.
Stare.
Wince.
Glance.
Forget.
Forgot.

Animals;
Jump on eachother.
Play.
Hide and go seek in the sky.
Down to the creek for a bath.
Smelly feet.
Fun, loving, friends.
Jealousy.

To the point;
Wednesday the ninth of June,
is awfully awfully soon.
There may be a surprise,
so i'll close my eyes,
And look into the great big moon.

Inside i see a rabbit
I wish that i could grab it,
Hold him tight
and kiss him good night,
And realise your not a rabbit.

Where freckle and lip do meet
and hair is never neat
I whisper in your ear
something you'd hate to hear
and i frown lightly in defeat.

Eager to please
with a moment to seise
yes, it's true
you love me too
and my life is at ease

Then i open my eyes
and what a surprise
reality is here
to fill me with fear
and the birthday girl sighs.

11:11;
i wish i wish i wish.
but, you know it is not possible.
The whether man said himself,
that whether or not, is not that whether,
whet her, wet her, wet hair, wet bear,
whether you will or whether you won't,
the impossible depends on whether
you sleep with your eyes open,
or not.