Poetry

I strip by the mirror, and mindlessly stare. Defenseless -- as always, but now I'm aware. The wind's never late; I have to keep steady.     The cold of this world won't wait 'till you're ready.

I run to the shower. My favorite place. The droplets are warm -- they run through my face, My shoulders relax, the steam fills the air.     The cold of this world won't bother me there...

Away from the wind, but not from my brain, Which echoes my worries wherever I'm in. Anxiety blossoms, and grows unrestrained.     The cold of this world is born from within.

At last the world calls. Which facts will unfold? Which one of my fears reality holds? I'm not ready. No one is. I have to be bold.     The cold of this world.     I must face the cold.

I had a breakup so I wrote a sad song. It's a bit jazzy. I hope lyrics count as poetry.

In the morning

The one I wish I never knew

In the morning

The last one I'll wake with you

.

When the words that come out

Are whispers of a shout

From a heart that pleads it not to be true

.

In the morning

The last morning I have you

.

In the morning

After confessions in the night

In the morning

I never held you so tight

.

The dreams that we had

That could never come to pass

A bird who broke it's wings

Before it hit the glass

.

In the morning

The last morning I had you

.

instrumental

.

I made sure to smell

Your hair before farewell

I don't know if you noticed

I don't know if you could tell

.

In the morning

The last morning I had you