never was

out here, in this wasted space,

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss,

no one understands the loneliness,

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues

amongst lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees

between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark;

old debts return,

tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat,

holding on until

there is nothing left;

without hope,

without chance;

beautiful dreams flow like a river,

on their way to imaginary seas,

dancing like butterflies

on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic

within the caverns of mindless souls;

one more time,

traveling down long and

lonesome roads,

searching for a home

inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies

that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began;

my eyes have seen what others

have not,

my heart has known that

which no heart should;

who sees these shadows,

who knows this hunger,

every word,

every thought,

every feeling;

inadequate;

the day is gone,

the night moves on,

the bags all packed,

waiting for the final call,

once you go through

that door,

there’s no going back,

no return,

no tomorrow,

no more;

sometimes the greatest love

is that which never was.

.

.