by Medusa
© 2002 B. Howard, all rights reserved
The man-child,
Whose past life shines,
Like tears through your smile,
Just for me.The agony of youth,
That still emphasizes imperfection,
I know that story,
And I see you still.
All of you.
The good, bad, ugly, and beautiful.I had a recurring dream.
I was the moon,
Flying,
To catch the setting sun.
Or, sometimes, just waiting
Because the sight was close enough
To heaven.I'll toss my soul upon the burning alter,
As often as I must,
To quench the flames
With the tears I've wiped
From your heart.I must show you this mirror,
When the smoke one day clears,
And all I ask
Is one day you comprehend
The reflection in my eyes.I've met the guy, my dear
And he's not so bad.
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