Talk to me of love and life:

Simple pleasures, private strife,

Of bristling anger, unfounded joy,

And all the tools that you employ

to get through this web of lies,

Of illusions and broken ties.

I cannot breathe till I hear your voice,

I have no strength and no choice.

Talk to me of love and life

You, my simple pleasure, my private strife.

Separation

Its not unlike the sound of rain,

This constantly drumming obtuse pain.

Against my ribs, against my chest,

Disallowing of a moment's rest.

To taste, it would be bittersweet;

Like the days we do not meet,

But listen to each other speak.