I want to be...

I want to be the face…
…you lay your eyes upon before sleep dawns in
I want to be the dreams…
…that obsesses your subconscious valley
I want to be the first vision…
…your mind conceives in the waking morn
I want to be the reality…
…that enlightens you with every truth
I want to be the air…
…that gives you the breath of life
I want to be the love…
…that fills the recesses of your heart
I want to be the heart…
…that beats as one with yours
I want to be the touch…
…that soothes your every anxiety and every ache
I want to be the voice…
…that whispers the words that elevate your mind
I want to be the eyes…
…that hold your gaze, looking deep into your soul
I want to be the hands…
…that possess your own in mine
I want to be the lips…
…that tastes your kisses
I want to be the one you miss…
…when distance separates us
I want to be the one you desire…
…to hold when out of reach
I want to be the one you need…
…to relieve sadness or uncertainty
I want to be to you, all that I can be…
…so will you let me be the one?

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The telephone rings...

Embers glow in the fireplace.
Flames are set ablaze.
Its radiance paints the room,
A soft golden.
Christmas lights twinkle,
On the five-foot tall tree.
Presents sit beneath,
Awaiting Christmas day.
A lonesome mistletoe,
Hangs from the ceiling.
A woman in solitude,
Lounges on an armchair.
It is way past bedtime,
The kids are fast asleep.
Not a sound can be heard,
Only the crackle of burning wood.
The telephone rings…

A cool breeze resides,
In the crisp morning air.
Blending with the scent
Of flowers in bloom.
Kids play gleefully,
Scrambling up the jungle gym,
Flying on high swings,
Running around.
The woman on the park bench,
Smiles, then gazes at her watch.
She calls out to them,
It’s time to go home.
An easy drive back,
To their house in the suburbs.
The kids jump out,
Race for the door.
The telephone rings…

She shields her eyes,
From a ray of sunlight.
Watches the kids on the beach,
Building sandcastles on the shore,
Chasing after each other,
Splashing about in the blue-green waters.
They return to her,
Tired from the day’s excitement.
It’s early in the afternoon,
The sun has reached its peak.
It’s too hot to stay outside,
So they head on home,
As soon as they arrive,
They make a beeline for the kitchen,
Chilled lemonade from the fridge,
Quenches their thirst.
The telephone rings…

A gloomy day.
From her bedroom window,
She absently counts,
Falling leaves of orange and red.
A heavy sigh,
Escapes her lips.
She lays her head on the pillow,
Touches the empty space beside her.
The telephone rings…
Eagerly she lifts the receiver to her ear.
A familiar warmth sweeps over her,
As she listens to the sound of his voice.
He has some news…some bad news.
He can't come home...again.
Tears spill over the rims of her eyes,
Her chest heaves with every breath she takes.
She says goodbye,
With all her love.
Hugging her knees to her chest,
She weeps.
Her children silently tiptoe into the room.
She looks up,
Gathers them in an ardent embrace,
Planting kisses on each of their foreheads.
She tucks them in under the sheets,
Sings them to sleep.
And tries to compensate for another year of solitude.

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My Only Sin

Another solitary night
I walk down a lonely street
The surroundings are familiar
Coz I’ve been here a thousand times before
I’m safer now
Than I am in the day
I can find my destination
Even if I close my eyes
I’m oblivious to the world
Underneath the black sky

I don’t care what they say
I don’t care what they do

They’ll never understand
That with you I am home
They’ll never know
The beauty, the truth and the hope
If this is forbidden
To me it matters not
I will welcome damnation
For my only sin is love

Tonight I make my way to you
To our secret sanctuary
The world around me is but fiction
For you are my only reality
I draw closer now
My heart fills with warmth
I know you’re waiting for me
I’ll be in your arms soon
If this is wrong let me be
My conscience is clear

I don’t care what they say
I don’t care what they do

They’ll never understand
That with you I am home
They’ll never know
The beauty, the truth and the hope
If this is forbidden
To me it matters not
I will welcome damnation
For my only sin is love

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Stranger to Me

The stranger boldly grins,
And looks at me with a flicker in her eyes.
She waves her jeweled hands,
As she flamboyantly speaks.
She narrates tales of adventures,
Of riches that she owns.
Of castles in the sky.
Of servants at her beck and call.
But she is living a lie.
She is being eaten away,
By a sickness that affects not the body,
But a sickness that defects the soul.
She has two faces: A beauty queen,
And a magician.
She lives two lives: A life of theatre,
And a life of crime.
She squanders wealth,
That is not her own.
She has a name,
That she ruthlessly disowns.
Guard your possessions,
Your purse. Your house. Your man.
From her prying hands.
Here one moment, gone the next.
I stare at the girl in the mirror,
I know her,
Like I know myself.
Yet, she is a stranger to me.

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Eternally

Last night I dreamt I lost you
I woke up in a cold sweat
But how could I lose
Someone I’ve never had
I’ve always been there
Cried in your time of sorrow
Smiled in times of joy
Loved you all these years
Yet to you I am nothing
Like the black heavens
Unworthy of your gaze
I watch over you as you sleep
I take in your every breath
Wish I could touch you
And my silent heart
Whispers words I could never say…

Your love is a journey
To a land of nowhere
With no bright light ahead
To guide the way
I’m lost in you
I’m lost with you
I see the danger
But I refuse to be swayed
Even to love you from a distance
Even to remain non-existent
I want to fall for you
Fall into the depths…eternally

I’m tired of being alone
But can never let you go
I’m in chains of steel
Insane, disillusioned
The devil in you
Your charm and devious ways
Your smile steals my soul
Tempts me to succumb
Though I know I cannot hope
I can only fear
One day you’ll go away
Without even knowing my name
I will always be that girl
Outside looking in
And my silent heart
Whispers words I could never say…

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If these walls could talk...

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
To the eye of an observer…
A useless stack of wood.
In the eyes of the beholder…
Escape. Refuge. Bliss.
Inside, the stale aroma of decaying timber.
A worn-out mattress in one far corner.
Above it, a nail bolted into the wall.
Where a picture crookedly hangs.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers would meet.
A candle sits on the window sill.
Casting shadows on the walls inside.
It was there they made a lasting vow.
To love. To cherish. To return.
It was there they shunned out the world.
The distance. The obstacles. The doubt.
On the mattress they lay.
And awakened each dawn.
To say goodbye. To part ways.
To again succumb to the call of night.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers bid each other farewell.
The candle by the window sill.
Melted. Diminished. Died out.
Within these four walls.
They lay in complete darkness.
So neither would have to see the other cry.
To see the other walk away.
They made a binding promise.
That one day, someday, soon.
When the world would let them be.
To love. To cherish. To return.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
Slowly, I draw near and enter.
A whole different world.
A world of vivid memories.
Of escape. Of refuge. Of bliss.
I take the picture down from the wall.
A teardrop falls on the reflection.
Of lovers I had once known.
Lovers whose story has long since ended.
Then the door creaks open behind me.
And I stand my ground.
Footsteps echo towards me.
Patiently, I wait.
No confusion. No fear. No doubt.
A hand rests on my shoulder.
And I know who it is.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love lost.
A story of love found.
A story I know so well.

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