Bandits Of Time.

As time moves on,
We move  forward.
But our love remains stationary.
Some may say needless,
Emotions alive within us.
However, they are unable to manifest.
So much time has passed,
Yet it's still not the right time.
We can not be upset,
Anger will get us nowhere,
Regret will only slow us down.
Instead, let us bask in the light that radiates from memories made,
For they will soon be extinguished,
Let us be warmed by their embers.
It was not our time,
And if it shall never be, I have made my peace with it.
We cheated time and stole a few seconds,
A few minutes,
A few hours,
A few days,
A few weeks,
A few months.
And even after this cruel realisation dawned on us, we still stole from time.
Our thieving days are at an end my dear.
I will only ever share with you time that is ours.
Till then, and even if it is never,  my dear I pray for you happiness, and I pray you find yourself.  Never feel lost again.

Yours always,
Ade.

A Friendship With Death

I've seen death.
I've seen him at his best.
I saw him run through a family like it was nothing.

Swept through and took them away,
Left only a whiff of their presence.
Alas, he didn't visit without gifts,
Sorrow and confusion.
He laid them neatly wrapped at their feet.

His joy grew with each tear.
Each scream of pain,
Music to his ears.

I've seen death and he is ugly.
However, I cannot hate him,
In a dark way he is necessary.

If anything, I feel sorry for death.
Cold bodies and the souls of the wicked for company.
Oh death, whom did you scorn in the past life?

I feel sorry for death even though he will eventually come for me.
He shall have my company when he comes for me.
And in that fleeting moment, when life leaves me, and I see death as I die,
I shall be his friend.

Path To Sleep

What keeps you up at night?

What haunts you when your eyes are closed?

What weighs your heart down?
Are you willing to share?
Or would you have me break the silence?

My heart is always heavy, I am human,  I am imperfect.
My inadequacies keep me up at night,
Even worse, that the world will discover them all.

We all have demons,
But I fear my demons are wiser than I am.
They have been fruitful.
They have multiplied.
They rumple my sheets.
They interrupt my sleep.
They have become a legion, my bed can no longer contain them.
My bed sits on a mountain of demons.
And I am the king of this mountain.

However,  through all this I thank God.
He made me realise.
I birthed these demons, 
I am the reason for their existence
And only I can determine whether or not they hold me at ransome.

So I take a light and let it shine underneath my bed.
Let the world see.
So at night when my lids are heavy I can sleep.

Her Request

Don't kiss me.
You do so differently when you're high,
The passion evaporates from your brain into the sky.
Your hands leave my face to cup my breasts and make their way to my thighs.
Emotionless,
The emotions are less.
All I see is lust when I look into your eyes,
And I refuse to swim in those pools, 
Because my darling I will drown.
See I've been to hell,
I refuse to go back down.
I don't mind your habits,
I like to walk on clouds too.
But I want to feel you and be with you sober.
So I ask got the same.
I'll wait for you to come down from the clouds and dance with me in the rain.

The Butchers Garden

I hear them tremble in the early morning winds,
They know what Saturday mornings mean.
So the birds sing songs of sorrow as Saturday morning dawns,
Fir those who are to become victims at the end of the butchers yawn.

I lay in bed awake listening for the slow dragging of his feet.
Each footstep still heavy with sleep.
As he heads towards his arsenal,
Silent cries of horror.
I lay in bed listening.
Wind carrying the voices of his victims whispering.
None sure if who will be cut off this weekend.

He cuts and slices with such ferocity,
Standing back to admire his work.
His would be victims praying that he is pleased,
If not it could be them that lay at his feet.
He walks briskly now, this cleanse had finally woken him,
All that's left is for the dead to be cleaned.
I wait in the kitchen for my father the butcher, he is done for the weekend.
Garden grooming I've termed killing season.

The Fear Of Lost

I hate it when you say you feel lost.

Sat here with no way of helping you find yourself.
I cannot even be lost with you.
All that is left is worry.

So I pray, I pray for you. I found God recently, and he's become my light.
I'll share that light with you.
So I say little prayers for you, I keep you in my heart because He knows my heart and grants me my desires.

So wonder on little dove, lose yourself, take the wrong steps, don't be afraid to feel lost.
In turn, I'll refrain from worrying.
I've spoken to the One above about you.
I've sacrificed my angels for you.

They shall keep you. 

Keep you for me.

Clarity

A full moon, clear skies, a clear mind and a clear heart.
You are the resulting image from this moment of clarity.
You are the modest one.
Beautiful as you are, you gave yourself to me,
My imperfections poisoned it. 
Alas, here I stand, alone, you've departed from arms.

I will chase.
Allow this one last thing, that you'll give me the chance to earn you back.
It's been brief but I could not tell you the last time the thought of a woman brought me this much joy.
The pleasure that erupts at the thought of you,
The pain that pierces as a result of the distance between us.
I chase for the mixture of both emotions.

You've lit a flame long since put out in my life.
This flame burns with the intensity of the flames of hell,
But lights up my path like the golden streets of heaven.
Don't put it out my dear,
Let it burn.
I'll show my scars with pride.

And if this is love, I'll let the flames engulf me whole.