Monday, August 20, 2007

Born to give it away, I'll take it to the grave.

It was hard to love a man like you
Goodbye was half the words you knew
While you was waiting for me not to call
I sent my love
I sent my love

********

You can leave it all behind, if you think it will help. I am just your nightmare, grappling with you in the dark until the mourning sun interrupts and I wither under its gaze. I am but the Ghost of Christmas Past, the dark cloaked phantom, fading, fading, faded. The chill wind which tickles and tosses the lovers' hair as they walk hand in hand through the gold and gilded now. My song is The Forever March, soft, sad, wise, earth bound and ultimately - destructive. I am the End to your New Beginning. I am a memory.

Will you remember?
Only in the night. I will visit you in the night and
all the stars will be wishes from me to you,
and I will keep giving,
until your one wish comes true.

The Wanderer.
The Walker.
He Who Is Known, but Not.
The Shadow.
The Liar.
The Thief.
The Paradox.
The Dreamer, the Believer.
The Lost Little Boy.

But, hey.

There is always the gift of today and the promise of tomorrow.




4 comments:

  1. how can you say mourning sun? the sun is a gift to you. to us all. feel her warmth on your skin.

    i wonder if you do not enjoy your bad-boyness, just a little? it's far more exciting than being ordinary. people hate to be ordinary. except the ones who really are. and they just don't realise it.

    none of my business of course but you put it up there.


    x

    owly

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  2. These stories are merely based on a true story. Don't make it all fact. The sun mourns for what she exposes some mornings, not to say I don't like getting my man boobs out underneath her and feeling the lurve.

    My bad-boyness. Yeah, that's an interesting one that one is.

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  3. That's a pretty little "Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight" addition.

    Being a romantic and malo at the same time must get incredibly tiring and very confusing. Which reminds me, I have a shame-faced apology to tender. Flashing my arbols around like that...

    Oh no.

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