And all the stars bear witness

Each time I run my fingers through your hair

Kissing your eyes

while the planets float by

Stopping just to stare

Our lips collide

Humanity smiles

just wishing they could be us

as our joy explodes with every touch


There's nothing I wan't more

But you don't know what you want

And I need you to decide before

your silhouette begins to haunt

And my heart crashes to the floor


But everything's alright

I know you need a little time with me

to make sure I'm your destiny or

You need a little time with him before

you kick me out that door.


The only problem is I care

more than you imagine

and you don't know what's best for yourself

And I'm not saying its me that is

Cos, I know one thing for sure:

you'll be waiting by the door at night

and dinners cold, he'll come back late

having lost the boxer briefs you gave him

All you'll ever do is fight


How would he treat you if you were sick:

Would he be willing to get sick too

just to put his arms around you?


But everything's alright

To be completely honest

I've realized all the pain I'd have

is sprung from my concern for you

So All I'd have to do is

completely lose all concern for you

And you tell me to wait for you

And what this makes me want do

Is leave the earth and even you.


I guess if you leave I can't wait for you, and the hardest part is losing my concern too.

Alongside the screeching parrot

Zohar says it so well: I am the only person in the world, fuck everyone else.
But we see that it is only our opinions of ourselves that really matter and we still allow others to influence us emotionally? "Don't get angry with yourself, I'll heal you"(Bjork). Yet it is not Bjork that does the healing but the "I", the "I am the only person who can bring myself down", in this case the "I am the only one in the world" and "I respect myself, love myself, believe in myself". It is only me myself, and I myself will make this relationship work, I myself will convert the pangs of sorrow into tears of laughter, if I myself only WILL IT, I myself can do anything:

All I search for in you is the source of this will
So I can rejuvinate it, bring it back from the grave,
so that it can live for me, its savior, and not him,
its murderer. We live, and how can we live without
this will, if we cannot live without the relationship,
how can we make anything work, give ourselves the chance
to be happy, the opportunity, if we cannot will it?
Will it, and I will will it, will will to stay.
Do not and know that you will always have struggle and pain
for that is what you are willing, willing not to live.

Come with me, be with me, each other's guides through life's sweet rides
will joy and bliss and reconciliation, will life, and with elation
we will conquer pain and hardship and toil, so that the fruits of such labor will never spoil, we'll have tears, I know, but let them be of laughter and never sorrow.

All you have to do is let them, allow them, for I will it, and them together, us together, will grow, to be, what you never after thought was possible: I can't say perfection, but I can say, divine...

Love?

I told myself never to obsess anymore, this about 4 years ago, and it seems as if creating a blog about a girl, although not just any girl, would seem obsessive. Yet reverting back to the first level of poetry, feelings about the relationship, is here entirely due. With no more psychologist all I have is the page on which to vent. And venting is precisely what I shall do. Be it venting that annoys, venting that makes you weep, venting that pushes you away, or that even draws you near; all the same I will vent. For with/without Leyat Shira, you are my song, I will need to vent.

Ventilation: so that air can circulate; without this ventilation blood cannot flow, for the heart is made to stop, freeze, rage, burn, break, shatter, burst, explode, back and forth, minute by minute, with an uncontrollable swinging, day by day. As much as I hate her I love her. But as is typical with me, the hatred fosters and deepens the love as the love propels and promulgates the hatred.

She loves another who loves none,
yet appreciating her,
as being the most caring,
he desires her to return:
perhaps only to satisfy his
hurt, desperate, childish ego
in need of affirmation
in need of love; yet maybe
he knows she's the best, but simply
doesn't respect or care enough
to cease his selfishness and want
the best for her, as I do.
I would give her up if I thought, sincerely,
that someone else was/is better for her.
Knowing I am the best, I still cannot know
that I am the best for her.
But she deserves to be treated well in return
for the way she treats well, not just used
and abused: she deserves what her parents have
that Birdie does not have, reciprocity.
And as much as I say it she still doesn't know
what it means.

I will vent, oh yes, I do submit,
yet subconsciously play my games
that she will one day realize
I never really submitted
I am losing, for she doesn't want to
doesn't understand
I am winning, for when she does,
she'll see who has been losing the most.
But she is very very good, and we, an angel together
would, if she allowed, if she understood and realized,
would flourish as the spoilt flower in the greenhouse,
the one that, after having blossomed, is given,
absolutely everything.