The Weeping Doves of the Willow Tree

The smile across your face as you walk swiftly away tells me a tall tale from yesterday.
The tears that never fall, tells me your mind is somewhere, anywhere but here
The tragedy that just befell upon your breast you will never see
And again this snow fallen look of desperation, will never be recognized

Only the black clouds that swirl around the atmosphere understand
I lay in my favorite place, white strings surrounding, enclosing me
Protecting me from the elements that lash out onto my face
Burning my eyes with urgency, and deafening my ears with the screams and cries

Doves are weeping in the old willow tree as the storm rages on
I close my eyes and try to hide, ignore the train that is raging inside
I lay, tied to the tracks of it's demise
My skin smoldering, wishing, and willing to die

Cast me away from this prevalent lie
In the kiln of the future I rise
In the vivacity of my own mind I fly to thee
Yearning to hear the heart beat once more, in the soul that once stood before me

Make it rain, take this heated storm away


My soul screams into the dust and clouds, yearning for it to rain,
Singing the words it knows best, crying in the vex of this feeling
"Love means never having to say your sorry"
Singing it over and over again in my mind

My head is spinning, I can't breathe
For a breath is something the living only know of
And a dream to the dead
I am neither, and suffer in the abyss in-between worlds of life and hell

The doves sing, mourning the day with dreaded dark clouds
Scarlet blue to glorious ebony, rippled through with threads of lightening
Lurking between, Brilliant dashes of dignified sunlight, that barely peak through
Sending small rays of hope through the willow tree, onto the breast of the doves

I begin to smile, forgetting the past