Guilt.

Her face is beautiful, her figure fine,
she was all the things you'd wanted,
she was everything, divine.
Yet beneath the angel wings,
lay a nest of wasp and hornet,
you could've looked and looked
but never seen the stings -
and who were you, to have known it?

And who were you, to salt the wound?
To tempt, to tease, then try to soothe,
it was not chess, and it was not your move,
but you made it - now lay in it,
and let your guilt forever be your tomb.

Distance.

I was cast ashore on some foreign land,
a suprising twist of foreign fate,
with no memory of another's hand
and with inspiration, but all too late.
And whilst surrounded by beautiful beaches,
lovingly cast against the bluest sky,
I sat on the furthest reaches,
the kind of which mind, nor money, can buy.

Darkness.

The pen seemed heavy in his hand,
not because of it's weight,
he was just scared what it would write, should it land.
Because despite his best efforts,
all his thoughts came out at night,
when he had nothing better to do
than sit at his desk and turn off the light.
But he thought there was poetry in that -
that the darkness should so clearly show
wrong, from right.

Icarus.

The simple truth was too simple for some -
that despite the story of poor Icarus,
there are still those that reach the sun.

Orbit.

The sun sets, and gives way for the moon,
Laboriously trudging through a thick web of violet
dashed with the colour of the clouds.
The sun sets, and some feel it's too soon,
as the colours in the sky begin to fade,
lost to tonight's murky shrouds -
that once held all the dreams I'd made.

And as the satellite parodies the sun's noon,
The sun prepares a new ascent
to brighten now dark pallettes.
And so the moon sets, and none feel it too soon,
as the darkness in the sky begins to fade,
lost to today's promising bets -
that once again hold all the dreams I've made.
And not a single one, to lose.

Breeze.

It's a cold street,
and the pavement is dressed in grey.
A single moment gets caught by the wind,
and through opens hands, slowly slips away.
My eyes don't blink,
and I don't miss a step,
my life just changed again,
and I didn't even stop to think.

It's a cold street,
and it'll get colder throughout that day,
A single moment gets caught by the wind,
And towards my open hands, it makes it's way.
My eyes don't blink,
but I miss my step,
my life just changed again,
but this time my heart won't sink.

Fine.

On the outside looking in, everything seems so fine,
but my life is a poem being written,
and I get stuck on every line.
I'm not interested in excuses,
I'm interested in our time,
it feels like it's falling short -
I feel like I've lost what once was mine.