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(Note: This is a true story.)
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Aiidoneus, I come close to you in the dark of night
Before chariots of fire herald the dawn with gladness.
I lurk just beyond your cold, soothing grasp
And dance warily away, while teasing your desires.
I would eat of your fruit, if I knew you’d love only me.
Rather must I spit out the seed, betraying my progeny
And ignoring your wise council, so freely given.
Deep in the center of your darkened house do I sit,
Hoping for some company to be had, some relief
To my isolated suffering. Nay, it can’t be given.
Souls that come to Hades are doomed to an eternity
Of tears: A fitting price to a life of joy and sunshine.
Beloved benefactor, although I stand on opposite end
Of the veil, lusting for just a sight of your countenance,
My heart is with you still, down in the bowels of magma
Where the earth is a song, something sung to the tune
Of an unknown musician’s grave; the notes are forgotten
To only those that can move on. Society is selective
In its memory, but not I. I belong in your arms always,
Your fair Persephone, whose mother fed nations
And wept bitter tears at the loss of my heart and soul.
You Made Me Cry
You made me smile
I loved you all the while
Grinning and laughing like a child,
While seasons were turning
And I was learning
Friendship's true depth and meaning.
You made me cry
But I kept it inside,
Disguised it with flashes of pride.
While you were screaming
My tears were streaming
Behind my angry eyes, flashing.
A secret I'll keep
Not spoken in deepest of sleep
While you were driving
My soul of crying
My tears salting my heart's breaking.
I stacked bricks high
Hid inside while they dried
Determined you won't see me cry.
While you were pushing
My feelings became nothing
Behind my wall I keep dreaming
We were happy
Sitting under the tree
Sharing books and fanciful dreams.
While you were growing
I spent time knowing
And sleep would be a wonderful thing.
A wonderful thing
The seasons they bring
Tears and an empty space.
You made me cry
Then you went away
You made me die.
The Secret
I suppose I am the secret that is best left forgotten;
A squeak in the cupboard explained away by the mice.
I will hide away by day and steal outside when
The sun is gone for dark and my memory is ice.
Toss me in the closet. Pull me out for remembrance.
Soon cobwebs will blanket me, hiding me from your eyes.
So sitting in the dust, a relic for forgetful men,
I will wait until the reason is lost with my cries.
Moments to Think,
Thinking in the Moment
And maybe a Story to Tell.