I dreamt a love song

Beneath the soft glow of branches, and the low light of leaves, the sound settled.  It drifted to us, a verse upon the breeze.  Scared of the truth that was playing, we lay there in the calm; nestled to your body. 

I watched us from the branches, of the chestnut tree.  I watched us being contented, relaxed unto the breeze. 

And softly in the distance the voices kept right on... singing away all the sorrow, sending the pain to the earth, allowing me to love you, let me become whole. 

Fawn

Be gentle, but bite

I’ll caress if you keep me close.

Be gentle, don’t let me doubt

You’ll haunt my dreams of fear

Be gentle - don’t be scared...

You won’t hurt me, just touch me

Be gentle, tighten your grip.

Be gentle, on my smooth skin, as you

Crush my bones, with clever words.

Be careful. Be rough.

Adore Love me.

Confrontation

You cannot hide from me. I feel it in your eyes; you are lonely.  I want to pull you from it, help you, and free you from the mud.  It grips; you love it, a comfort in what you know. 

I can show you, show you how to feel, just let me in... Let me, let me pull you, pull me from the mud.  I won’t let you fall again.  I want to pull you, save you, help you. 

.I.will.be.there.

Let me.

I will not let you down. 

Believe as the fireflies play

Quiet.  And shy.  He plays, he keeps playing, simply because, he believes.   Metal beads chink in my palms as I watch him re-build as he sits, sits on a hard, wood stool.  He fits together the things he thought he knew, the keys like nooks in a puzzle.  What he once believed, it evolves into something, something different, new.  Something dark, as light shines form where he did not know.  The black and white that once were so clear, blend before his eyes into shades of grey between the notes.

Happy, is the Old Cello

He plays on through the rain,

He plays as the water flows down, in

Dribbles and drizzles on

The cravings of an old cello

His face is sad as he

Hears the songs from long ago

Music from the place he

Once knew, long ago, it was.

"To make you feel my love (8)"

I need to know this first, 
It's becoming a deja-vu,
I just want you to know, 
I need to believe


I want you to tell me, 
And I need you to mean it, 


...I'm hanging by a thread

Sacred.

Yes, that’s us,

What I’m talking about,

When I say:

“It’s sacred”

When I say:

“It fits”

When I say:

..”I’m just happy”