If

If I could leave you
without leaving you
I would

But I can’t

I can only leave
without saying goodbye

If I could kiss you
without loving you
I would

But I can’t

I can only kiss you
with all my being

If I could have sex with you
without making love
I would

But I can’t

I can only give myself to you
whole and uninterrupted

If I could only be a bird
without needing to fly
I would

But I can’t

A bird isn’t a bird
If it doesn’t use its wings

What Loneliness Is and Isn’t

Loneliness isn’t
that single oasis in the middle of the desert,
nor that solitary candle in a dark lit night.

It isn’t
that single goldfish swimming back and forth
in your small glass bowl

nor that one rose
in an empty garden.

Loneliness is
that guy
burning through parties every night,
hoping for a fleeting moment,
his emptiness filled
by the booze and sex
the night has to offer.

Loneliness is
that moment when you find yourself
wanting to celebrate a victory,
but find no one to share it with.

Loneliness is
that feeling
of having gotten everything in the world
and yet somehow something is lacking.

Loneliness isn’t
being alone with no one to talk to.

Loneliness is
being surrounded by so many people,
none of whom sees the real you.

Loneliness isn’t an island.
It’s a sea of people
moving through you and past you.
It’s a storm of empty days and empty moments,
going through the motions
and hoping that just for one day
your emptiness is filled.

Loneliness isn’t a state of being alone,
but a state of not being fully understood.

Birth

From the dark I was born
With one setting: forlorn
On my lips, smiles are forsworn
In my eyes, light is torn

In that madness, a man was formed
In that sadness, emotions stormed
In that darkness, thoughts swarmed
In that blight, a soul malformed

From that shadow, grew great big wings
A bluebird awakens and spontaneously sings
From floor to walls, up to the ceilings
His voice shall fill you with his feelings

Rhyme to rhyme, and corner to corner
His words shall fill you with its power
And when you’re done hearing him after
The world suddenly isn’t as brighter

But his power has a price
He can’t live forever, cast in ice
On and on, as he flies
His life burns as sacrifice

Knowing the end he had but two choices
Continue on until he crashes
or stop now and kill his verses

So he does, the only sensible thing
He flies his last
in one great big singing

From that death, a child was born
In the darkness, it was forlorn.