.Flowers
He liked to give her carnations,
Or were they roses,
I don’t know, I call them flowers.
She would make her happiness known
By thanking the man again and again,
When she got the flowers.
Loud, clear, concise words to the man,
As she tore up the flowers.
The man would smile,
As the ground turned to petals.
Love that was never really seen,
By the man who never really saw.
Density
People come and people go,
Battle scars are what they get.
Not noticeable at first, you’ve got to look real deep.
Deep into the soul,
Somewhere around common sense and intuition.
You are just their pawn,
You aren’t even human to them.
Smiling as they tear away,
Gleaming eyes at tattered friendships.
They think they know what they are doing,
As if it’s a one of a kind plan.
The reality comes and it is something less,
Just a desperate look for attention.
There is a human somewhere in there,
I know, I think, well maybe there…
