It's the sad truth...Letting go of someone... something...sometimes... is a necessity.

Vulnerable... My wax-like existence  in the presence of your flame makes my eyes drip with tears.   This constant bleeding of my soul... This neverending torment... My waxy soul will sometimes  avoid the world's flame,   and my running tears will dry. And my wax figure will be silent... tears dried...

I am lost in the flame, all burnt up. With a fire lit beneath my palm, And at the fingertips, I aim true to twist and turn my delight, Upside down, lost in her beckoning sight It’s her hot-lipped fire I see all around   Yet...

Your kisses were like honeyas I tasted them on the streetlate at nightyour embraces were like a silk scarf.

Do you miss me  Am I  a fleeting thought in the back of your mind    Do you miss the way I laugh  When jokes were not really that funny    Do you miss my voice  Soft and tender at times and then at other times,...