sweet--intoxication

When the stars come out at night I think of you When the stars come out at night I think of all the memories we made When the stars come out at night I think of how you are like a star Shining oh so high above But I can never have you Too far away Where love is lost And left to die When the stars come out at night I think What’s the use of loving When you can’t have what you love?

I miss you/ I miss your smile/ And I still shed a tear/ Every once in a while The music plays on. A little while more and the next song will start. But this memory will never end. I still remember you vividly. The times we spent together are forever etched in my mind. I will never be able to forget you. Sometimes I wonder, late at night, do you still remember me too? It is a question I am almost scared to contemplate. Not all answers are forgiving to a heart. Be careful with this heart; it is fragile, it breaks. I still remember sitting next to you. Those few months I treasured and never wanted to let go. I remember each conversation,

Just pray. Everything’s going to be alright. I look at the children, flying down the slides, laughing derisively in their joy. At the end of the slide they pout before they are carried back to the top and the bells of their pleased shrieks ring again. I look at the rainbow I had climbed and fallen from. All my life I climbed laboriously up those seven colours; I worked my way up to the top. For a short-lived time the rain stopped and the rainbow shone through: I was at the top of the world, looking down at the world and laughing. It could never end. But it did, and soon I was falling quickly, surely, dangerously; not believing what w

It seems just yesterday that the sky was a perfect shade of blue, with those darling white clouds dotting the sky here and there. The world was happy and so was I, leading what I thought was a perfect life. And now the overcast clouds are here, ominously announcing their presence with roars of thunder and cackles of lightning, mocking me and my happy ending which was never to be. The crystal balls of years past roll past, broken and lying in shards; so is the future which I always thought to be mine. The blue skies are a mere memory of yesterday; footsteps etched, footsteps erased but not forgotten just yet. On the contrary, the dark anger