Elizabeth Haasch

I’m sick of the madness.
The hoping for more than you’ll ever have.
The antique hearts rusting away
like a carousel that’s never be ridden.
...

I am scared my friend because this is it.
When the ball drops or starts spinning again
When life as we know it can begin or end
They say it's the make it or break it
...

Paint me your picture my love
with words, song, and dance
show me a world with fear, love, and romance
...

Another night alone dear
as I wait for the sound of a ring through the silent air.
Sitting, waiting, watching it just there.
You’ll call one day and then I won’t be ready
...

Because no one should have to deal with anything alone
because if the stars were as bright as the moon we'd all be kissing the sun goodbye
because life is too short to wonder, wander, or worry
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in pure dreaming
a world with no fear would exist
flowers would not wilt
and the sun would never set
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Living is too short to wonder why death is so close
why pain is so real
and loneliness the thing you fear most
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It was you me and these white washed walls.
Nothing else to look for.
Nothing to see. Hear. Reveal.
because the lies were covered up with plaster.
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Perfection in it's simplest form
I did not cry
I did not fear
but laugh and joy came forth
...

So here I am remembering the days he came along.
Coat in hand.
Flat brimmed hat.
Light baggy jeans and a Abercrombie T.
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This sweet sorrow
this meaning of tragedy.

Again I question.
...

So here I am on a boat with no oars.
As far away from land as the sky is to the sea.
Yet close enough.
Looking at the land as if it were so close.
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So here I am dreaming, wishing for the day you’ll come back.
When life will seem some kind of normal for me again.
Some kind of decent perfection of your radiance
I’ve seen fly through the clouds in which we soar.
...

so here i am calling out to you
because i see you notice me
under this pale blue sky
wishing the clouds would open
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So here i am laying in bed again.
wishing for night to fall.
day to stop.
time to. end.
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So as I am sitting here screaming out in pain.
Walking on egg shells.
Walking on broken glass
wondering how to tell you
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Why I sit here in the dark.
Why I do the things I do.
Why is a question that keeps running through my head.
The tears flowing free like a stream of welled up thoughts of us.
...

There I begin to write in the pages of my journal
trying to explain to you
in the simplicity of this complexity.
An antonym in and of itself
...

So here I go again
wanting to say goodbye
wanting to let go
wanting to hear from you
...

you are the secret I want to keep.
The song I yearn to write.
The words I want to spell, write, speak with clarity.
You are the keys made with ivory.
...