O spilt milk,poor forgotten cliche

spreading across the floor

all fuming

angry at your owner,

who shed no tears for you

why become foul and spoiled?

truly yours is

an understandable dilemma

from a cabinet of many shards

that was not the first glass to break

but I am spongy soaking

meet me and be relieved

I will suffer through disasters

you will not be left on linoleum

I am spongy soaking

yellow and green is here to stay.

"Enter into the mansion" your first action says

It's quite dark outside, I know

Don't hesitate a bit, at all

To make your dreary self at home

The butler'll welcome you with tea

The maid will heed your every wish

The children'll be your guide

And I'll be here always, so no need to hide

Don't venture anywhere in the night

After you've had your time with me

I love you, my darling

And hopefully, this warning you'll heed

We'll journey together into forbidden forests

Don't go on the darkest black path

The nightingales will sing a love song

As the mockingbirds mimic your cries of pleasure

We'll play together

Perform our script in this romantic play

And together we'll always be

Until I cast you away...

Until with you I'm bored

Tch, such a pushy, useless toy

I'll lead you onto the darkest black path

And feed you to the wolves

Ha!

I'll stain you with your own blood

Watch and cackle as the crows circle

Laugh and swing my legs as the mockingbirds

Mimic your screams of pain

Ask your questions and cry your words

I'll listen carefully and try to answer

With my own careful and beautiful lies

I'll twist the script to my own liking!

Play, rewind, repeat

This is our eternal play!

Until the curtain drops on our cheap show

We'll lavish in wine and sweets and lowly pleasures!

Then the clock strikes twelve

Your glass slippers turn to bloody stains

As I tie you up and laugh seeing you spread out before me

A flash of the knife and you're painted a brilliant red

I take out your heart and inspect it...

How quickly it beats, even outside your body!

Bite into it with fangs to make it stop

And relish the taste of fresh metallic

Flowers of evil and sin

Readily bloom

Filled with an opaque red

Glow of finest doom

But not for me, oh!

For my love, you!

today my computer’s operating system decided that it would elope;

without me.

today i spent at least 12 hours trying to re-install windows.

the result of those 12 hours is a pretty boot-logo and a half-bricked laptop.

today my router died, and got to buy a brand new one.

a brand new one with the the same signal strength as my television remote.

oh, and i almost forgot!

today my bottle of jameson’s is fairly full.

today i got a free jar (for holding liquor?) from a restaurant i ate dinner at.

today i had a enjoyable conversation with an even more enjoyable friend.

today?

today,

i can finally see my love after so long!

writing.

You gave me a heart

When all I wanted was a hand

But I fell in love with you

Not knowing the hope you placed at my feet

Was only sinking sand.

-AshleyAnne

I kiss the little boundaries on the edges of your softened ends.

Each line is like a poem in the motion of a song.

You sing sweetly of the soft caresses, and wash anew in the

bath of love that waves across your weakened resolve.

Then that turn that opens up the secret places of the little spots

that you hide so dear to prying eyes.

Only I can touch them now, those private places where none else

dare to tread in fear of retribution.

We take and give in equal measure, each seeking to fulfill his own.

There is nothing private in the hidden wars between.

You are my cat.

It was you all along

At least that's what I thought

In a song, as I sung along

How did we become,

It was you, our eyes met

Our hearts were together from

Sundown to sunset, it was you

Looking closely, or maybe it wasn't you, It was someone I thought I knew, you are not you, nor am I meant for you.

You are you, just look behind you and You'll see what was meant for you, I had a piece of you but you

Didn't recognize you

Turnkey, turnkey,

Spiral cogs in the lock

The purveyor’s shop of antiquities

Dusty shelves,

Lights dim,

The wooden clock goes,

Tick-tock.

Trolls of Nordic lineage

Parade behind the counter,

Frozen in time,

Their little faces possess secrets

Worth far more than any coin once tendered at the shop register, the old relic.

That noise..

It grows louder,

Haunting,

A row of Bisque dolls animate a wink down the line,

In their lace dresses,

Movements synchronous,

As the clock strikes three.

The shopkeeper rises in the backroom,

Among boxes filled with one man’s junk,

Another man’s treasure

The noise beckons..

Fumbling through the boxes,

Searching for its source, the sublime.

At last he finds it among the knickknacks and tchotchkes,

A vintage music box,

Vienna,

The 1920’s,

Another time, another place.

He dusts it off, gently

With a fine linen cloth

Ornate, opulent,

Golden-leaf to trim the most intricate detail.

The rattling noise screeches,

An unbearable cacophony

Reaching into his breast pocket,

He finds the answer.

The turnkey twists inside the familiar music box,

As it opens, the horrendous sound is muted, at last.

In its place rises the symphony of angels,

Two porcelain dancers on the platform stage,

The gentleman in fine waistcoat,

One hand caressing the small of the noble woman’s back,

The other entwined with her delicate fingers, painted with apricot lacquer.

Into the night, the lovers keep in step to the Baroque tune,

And the old shopkeeper, he remembers,

(tears glistening his pale cheek)

This music box,

An anniversary gift,

To his wife, in 1927

They had celebrated 50 years together,

That winter’s day.

A treasure trove of memories,

The music box a mere memento

Of a life well-lived.

Two hearts, two souls,

Beating in harmony,

Nurturing a family with love, wisdom, and uplifting grace.

Children, now grown, with children of their own.

Her face lit up with wonder and delight,

At the sight of this Viennese music box.

“A little something to remember us by, always,

As long as we each keep the turnkey by our heart.”

She passed away,

Nearly seven years later,

By the foot of the bed,

With the music box playing on the dresser,

Its enchanting melody.

The shopkeeper was sobbing now,

He cradled his love one last time,

Before placing the keepsake back in its box,

Where it will rest until the old wooden clock in the shop strikes three the next day.

Drifting past a bronze mirror in the storage room,

He noticed that it reflected only the shelves behind him.

For 87 years had past hence,

He was no longer there,

Only his spectre remained in the once bustling antiquities shop,

Rising each day at the bewitching hour. . .

When, somewhere in the Universe,

They embrace,

Both holding the turnkey close to their hearts,

Their love transcending all of time and space,

They dance, a Waltz eternal.

It's hard, you know. It's really hard.

I don't like it when your eyes are closed like this. You're so quiet... I want to hear you talking again. I want to hear your voice.

It looks like you're comfortable. Surrounded by silk sheets with a matching soft pillow, I'm jealous for a moment. But I wouldn't take this comfort away from you, I'd join you in it. I'd never take anything away from you.

I wish you wouldn't take from me either.

I mean- it's not your fault! I'm not mad. Things happen. I understand. Believe me.

Your makeup looks really good. You always forget to take it off when you sleep, but it never really smudges. How do you do that? You always surprise me.

My makeup might be smudging, now. I guess that's fine. I wore waterproof mascara today.

I always did cry at funerals.

Mister, Mister..

You and I have lived for 9 hundred thousand days

Half asleep

While the never in our forever was awake

I looked up into the sky this morning,

I saw a message had been traced

It read, “Don't, look," but I did,

Only to spy your cloud,with the silver lining, had begun to dissipate

I told myself it is the way of storm clouds

I danced off, praying for rain

My heart has never truly fancied the replacements

Once the new rolls over into the familiar, I wont let them stay

All the while they were there, Id sneak off into the open air

Always late at night, under the guise of a cigarette break

To stare up at the stars,

And make damn sure your cloud with the silver lining did not blow too far away

You are my King of Hearts, I play the Ace of Spades

Our roles intertwine so very well, so with the distance I am okay

I have no fear of losing you, I hold no anticipation for things to change

I am almost content with this love of ours,

So it must be my fickle ways,

That stole the silver lining from inside your cloud,

Made it all my own

And sent you into a fade.

You

And I

Both know

What's going on.

Whether we are

Near or away

From each other

We are bounded.

Two poles

Alongside

A Flowing river

Our infrastructures

Are bounded

To the ocean floor.

Yet

We never touch.

We never cross

One another's paths.

So

I

Can

Reveal myself

I stay quiet.

For you talk

I listen

But

Do not hear you.

Because

Internally,

You are also silent.

Today

I see you

And you see me.

Together

We are one.

You step closer to me

As we are equidistant.

My eyes seek his soul.

Not his heart.

He looks at me

Compassionately.

Relentlessly

As I reach my arms

Towards his shoulders

And he guides his arms

Towards my torso

I strike him

With my blade

Across the back.

His eyes bewildered

Confused.

Before asking the question, Why?

I touch

His cold cheek

With my transmogrified palm

And kiss him gently.

As I spread my wings

I consumed his psyche

And traveled back

To my World

Of Unspoken Limits.