"A Glimpse of Something Bright"

Time...
...time
She came into sight, a glimpse of something bright.
A smile in the air, I could not help but stare.
Casual warmth we spoke, it felt sweet as my soul awoke.
Her soul shined, Her shimmer did blind.
Love.
I felt life hum, saying the best is yet to come.

"Zombie Lovers"

Dead People.
Zombie Lovers.
Emotional Infants.
I loved.
18+4. I counselled and yet still bled.
So OK.
18+4. I learned and knew Enough had been said.

I know I'm not the only one out there.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
I wait.
Oh this is so nice and so unexpected.
But I can see my heart just isn't interested.
I wait.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
Another shows me how to grow,
And yet even I can tell, oh Hell no.
I wait.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
Another and I lose my head, but she's unclear and full of dread.
It's 18+4 all over again, and so finally I'm grateful for the pain.

And still I return to the wait.

There's another now,
My soul opens and I know it isn't too late.
This time I know what to say,
And so the romance we play.

She smiles. Her smile is so bright.
And as we talk her soul feels so light.
No zombie lover who can't escape the game.
She takes my hand, while I'm thinking the same.
Yes. Finally this is completely sane.

"18plus4" - Death by a Million Tiny Scratches

A beauty deep in her core.
Of energy and spirit I'd not found before.
But the long ago cost of being had forged a shape to her heart.
And her pain and her rage my patience and love could not stop.

She won't fight fair, her rage reddens the air.
It leaves only an ever widening chasm as it tears.
Staining slowly crimson blood on all our years.

One tiny scratch, and then Another.
Drip. Drip - Strong the anger to withstand.
But the blood falls heavy and cold on rich dark soil.
Drip. Drip - Hard the demons to disband.
And after far too long the earth begins to spoil.

Drip. Drip - More frequent now,
while the tears of my soul keep asking why.
And the strength of my love fades now each day into the sky.

Drip. Drip.
Finally the blood claims its cost.
18 plus 4. A lifetime lost,
Death by a million tiny scratches.
Now longer this cold crimson shower willing to sustain.
I'm taking my dirt now to go find warm, healing rain.