You know sometimes,
thereís this burning.
And sometimes,
thereís this yearning,

for a kindred
Iíve not yet found
for a lover
that does not press and pound

at the doorway
of my cares
but merely slips in
while I, unawares

find myself falling
out of this pain.
Find myself falling
and find myself sane.

Iíve no need
for these broken men
who promise me life
but let me die again.

I no longer want
for one to save me.
I've been there before,
he learned to enslave me.

Broken hands
are the best to hold
the tiny pieces
of a heart turned cold.

All that I want,
all that I need,
a lover, a friend,
not to follow, nor lead.

But one with a smile,
and of purest intentions,
eyes like light,
lacking pretension.

All that I long for,
a beautiful mind,
Iíve searched, and searched,
but Iíve yet to find.

My kindred, my other,
to slake all this burning.
So, I am left...
Silently, yearning.

(c) 2002 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved

My Subliminal Guide To Insanity