Another Silly Song

Winter rain upon my terrace
Watching bats flit through palm trees.
Like dreamers who like to dance
Like a flower in a field of honey bees.

These days pass by so slowly
But in a blessed langour.
I dream of her even less now
than I ever did before.

Although I dream of her still
a little.

But this poem isn't about her
This is my song for you.
Because you never walk away without looking
to see me looking back at you.

And everytime you touch me
Your soul takes a hold of mine.
And every time I pull away now,
Separation leaves a bloody sign

When you smile I see it all
Even what they seldom see.
I see the sacred secret pain.
That you wish to share with me.

I see your weaknesses
I see the scars on your chest.
I see the tremble in your lips
and that you hate this damn dress.

We're all broken bits of pieces
My baby, you, and me.
But we are what the angels envy,
When they force themselves to see.

Prophets don't come from paradise
They are born bloody and screaming
They don't come to sit in quiet rooms
But to stand surrounded, broken and bleeding.

You say you want me baby,
What else could I possibly do?
You go your way,
I'll go your way too.

(*Last two lines are "The Sweetest Little Song" by my Prophet of Poem, Mr. Leonard Cohen)