Elucidating Questions

I miss you every day like a face I can’t touch, a name I don’t know, a place I haven’t seen,

Nowhere to go, nothing to say or do.

No one to talk to.

I miss you, like a voice I’ve never heard and air I’ve never breathed.

You’re not here, you’re somewhere out there,

You’re not here, I’ve looked everywhere.

You never told me your name, I don’t know the answer.

The name you gave wasn’t a name and if it was a name it was almost certainly lost in the translation of the dream of before.

The faces I didn’t recognise, but the souls, and spirits, I did.

Where are you?

Why are you?

How do I continue without you?

I thought I had found you, a split second of either madness or loneliness synonymous with it.

Though if I came across your being, would the meeting really be the same?

He’s here though, I did think I had found you.

He’s like you, he’s someone, I still recognise him,

But if I had to explain,

I feel like it would end up like the dream I had.

The hawk and I, side by side,

Talking it over, trying to put it into words.

Trying to figure out who he was and why it happened this way.

We meet in dreams, we met in dreams,

Dreams are all I have, to see the faces and truly speak to them.

I miss you, but I stand at the door, thinking if this is it,

If I’ll never be able to touch you or say your name,

That I foolishly did the spell, that I foolishly undid the spell.

If I had your heart in my hands as I pulled the pieces, and filled it with you,

I don’t anymore.

I say it felt heavy, it wasn’t a lie,

But I wish it would come back.

At least I would have a piece of you to hold on to,

And at least you gave it to me.

The sensation of a kiss on the bottom lip,

I am but a sorcerer without his most familiar.

I can recreate the spell, perhaps this time it will create the proper wripple.

A cross roads of the fates, a flame lit, the ashes of life,

And the pieces of it.

No incantation, silence in the night,

And maybe this time the moment will be right.

How old are these relics that are calling out? The two ancient worlds that are currently clashing,

Roots that stretch to the skies and they were forced, yet the ones that are travelling, life or death,

Are the ones who do damage to those and don’t look back.

Keep coming back to a foundation quite young,

And a second foundation built of the same stories told backwards.

How many generations, if they were immortal, if they truly were,

And of course nothing is,

When the universe is far more vast,

But what if the only other ones

Are so far away all you hear is a whisper,

And right now they’re screaming,

Something quite incorrect, again.

So somebody, who is that somebody who works so hard to make every day work somehow.

Show me someone to love.

And sing her a song, but we’re both in that place,

Where we feel chained by the inability to love.

Is it laughable that I want to protect you so much, the two of us losers,

The two of us trying to drag our way out. Thrown into creation by the loss of someone who was like a second.

I hear the pain I feel it too. It’s been such a long year, and each day gets closer

I wish I didn’t have to see it either, but I’ll see it with you,

I know I can’t get right beside you,

But I can think of it,

It was the loudest storm I could think of, it doesn’t seem to last,

I’m sorry I’m so weak and small,

If there’s ever a day we can meet,

The darkest hawk, and the lightest

I still feel the pain of the silence of shock when I heard,

Catching the drift of the one lost at sea.

You hear it everywhere, that they’ve been there too long. Words on the paper, put into song.

The pull of the guitar strings, did it break?

In that moment of darkness swallowed hole, did it break?

Do the stars fall in the moments of disappearing and disappointment,

Or do they merely shiver, and sway?

The nail shorn in half that sits atop like a left behind tool.

Eventually you run out of glue. The heart doesn’t go back so easily, like the moment the magnets snap

What kind of scream is heard from a mouth that doesn’t speak?

The feeling of a hand upside the head. At least she didn’t hit me, she wanted to though.

The blood that is owed to someone for something,

Why?

Of course you end up with the paradox, as that is what I am.

A hand over the mouth as it whispers

I wish there were more like me,

When of course I don’t. No one should feel how I feel.

If the element is water, it put out fires, if the feeling is healing as the water should,

If the red was love and not fire, or the meeting of both, and the lightning bolt between as the energies prick

Charge and pull.

Wait for green.

Does it mean this? Or is it a person?

I hear the call of the wild, the call to wait.

I still don’t have a reason, besides that I promised you.

Mister owl.

When the neighborhood never showed,

But you didn’t either, and I still feel guilty for not being able to help.

Don’t fail me now.

Don’t fail me.

Don’t fail.

Don’t.

And then I won’t

I wish I did have fair.

But this is the moment, when they just stare

And don’t move.

Half an hour to midnight.

And I still don’t see anyone. Or anything.

And it’s still the same nothing as it has been,

So the question isn’t do I or don’t I,

The question becomes,

Why should I? Or shouldn’t I?

As the infinite loop of despair I stepped into continues.

To the sound of keys and percussion strings.

When love ends, the view from heaven, shows the right.

An unfortunate, never ending, merciless sight. Unforgiving, unrelenting, says nothing each day,

Would like to watch as I fade away.

He was the last to know, but that’s hardly my fault.

After all I tried, and I was just never good enough.

And when he knew, I was already hurting I suppose,

But if someone had just said

He didn’t know

Well then I’d look at him, and say I’d been sending every message straight to you

And I believe in one, I said quite clear:

Seeing you that tiny hurts, seeing the exhaustion hurts, I suppose that never got there.

If it was as easy as pointing fingers and saying that was the problem or that was the problem

Always picking something not someone,

Thus picking me,

You see?

The eyes feel like nothing but tears have been cried, dried, even when they did and didn’t

Someone else could fly, I’m sure if they tried, they would do far better than I did

In the wake of my own fault, they could fly.

This feels like the slow beat down.

It feels like laughter at my expense.

Someone else could get it right,

Someone else would be what he wanted to see

No no one like you, and never ever something like me,

So someone completely different, and I will sing nothing.

I wish it was like it, without the sting that comes,

The thorn twisting in my heart.

Staring at it in the ashes and thinking without it,

At least it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Turning it off, for a while

Or forever

Because forever never comes.

So even though the love never changes, it’s a candle whose wax has melted out, didn’t even say goodbye.

Part of me wishes she would forget, simply because it would make it easier to never have to try to understand

Every time when we go back and there’s only one side to explain

We never even stopped thinking about her and trying to keep that connection, like anything at all, something to bring hope.

Sent with love, all of it, we all experienced it I was a world away

My feelings were often tossed aside, grief was expressed by all other than one,

Yet I’m being blamed, the gun aimed at my back

When I tried to move on after trying to keep it together, and turned away, who knows how to fix that story

I wished only good things even though I wanted to say otherwise sometimes, trying to believe in that, and if she only knew

What her kick out of the so called nest

When we never saw her as it, and she never believed that,

She said terrible things about me, she said awful things often

All I ever did was tell her she was beautiful, because she is, she always tried to strip away my hope

What standards?

And telling the story from her point.

You see, I wonder if anyone could see and understand,

That the second the question was asked it was answered in a sharp twist

So my standards were one of a kind,

I guess.

These twists of fate, these calls for something that could make it better than this.

Eventually they’re all sick of me, I suppose.

I never get sick of them, I get sick of being alone.

I still don’t understand

Resentment.