Something this foggy day, a something which
Is neither of this fog nor of today,
Has set me dreaming of the winds that play
Past certain cliffs, along one certain beach,
And turn the topmost edge of waves to spray:
Ah pleasant pebbly strand so far away,
So out of reach while quite within my reach,
As out of reach as India or Cathay!
I am sick of where I am and where I am not,
I am sick of foresight and of memory,
I am sick of all I have and all I see,
I am sick of self, and there is nothing new;
Oh weary impatient patience of my lot!
Thus with myself: how fares it, Friends, with you?
I tried to say 'I miss you' through every hug.
I tried to say 'I love you' through every kiss.
I tried to say 'I need you' everytime I locked you in my arms.
But you didn't understand. Never.
And I, never knew why.
Until one day I dived into your eyes.
I saw the sorrow danced and cried.
I saw no more stars shine so bright.
I saw myself on you.
And I, knew why.
We were broken souls intertwined.
We barely knew how to fix each other.
We fought to find remedy that once we believed it did exist in our string.
This is love.
This is also tragedy.
Let me love you painfully.
Am I not just the perfect wife
I quietly watched you play your game while I sat in a corner and drank up my sorrow
I'm sorry my love
I just got tired of your games
I grew tired of you
Rest in peace my beloved
The loud sound
As crystal clear yet so blurry
Able to hide our pains and sorrow
Our tears seem faded in comparison
A happy romantic weather
A sad mournful shiver
Such feeling seems to linger
Just a while longer
Until it's gentle touch causes us to wither.
He sits with an upright posture
And he loosens his fingers
He tells us an origin story
So that his hands may compute
The story is corny and too familiar
And he realises its wearisomeness
He rushes through it and mocks it
Till our laughter is of our interest
He has our attention for a bit
But our sorrows are drenched in wine
We have no sympathy for him and rightly so
This is a place of phony joy
Then he faces forward as our noises end
And his concentration is apparent
His smile dies and our laughs too
As his eyes close for the opening chord
He imagines the darkness to keep his own mind at bay
She'd give anything to know the definition of joy, just for a day
Seperate these two souls can't find peace
As one they are a distraction at the least
Tell me how darkness can fight the night of a different kind
Tell me why to sunsets this young girl is blind
Tell me a story both beautiful and sad
Tell me of knights and death and the life you once had
Tell me that you love me
No matter how unwhole
Tell me that you need me
With every fiber in your soul
Tell me worthless sweet nothings
Tell me of love, gained and lost
Tell me why sorrow appears in your eyes
When we kiss
a black woman I never saw
took notice of me
my sorrow at this world
my embracing loss
and her voice grew
out of my sleep
but trouble was what I saw
not her
preferring any hurt
that I did
I saw the art of sorrow
in her garden
cutting my hair close
the weather being hot
crying might take one home with it
on new springs
where now this journey
out-drives any ruts
but not so easy
I drove myself to be merry
talking of travel
bells ringing all day long on one ration of sorrow
I wear my sorrow
trimmed with gold silk
like a worn-out wife
forced to sneak like a beggar into bed
but it can cost a great deal
just to die
who sees the world without rags
without imperfection
taking a kind farewell to sad news
who is rich already
with what he saves in sorrow