Hutch-Wolfy

                               I remember believing all                           I remember believing everything                       I remember believing there was no love                    I remember believing I was meant to be alone           I remember believing there was no light at the end of the tunnel               I remember believing there was no other half to my soul                        I remember believing I had no purpose                           I remember believing everything                               I remember believing all                           I remember believe there was no hope          

The sky was filled with soft oranges, pastel reds and streaks of yellow. The sun was dying. The grass, so plush, shades of green that I could not comprehend nor name. The droplets on the daisies stayed wet from the previous rainfall, not enough sun left to dry them. The sheep, settling in for the night, curled up. Lambs pressed tight to their mother for warmth, for comfort, for love. The oak tree, with which upon I wrote my childhood, remained mildly damp from the rainfall, but sat, still, not daring to move lest it disturb the scene. The field was serene. Time ticked by, second by second. The sky was too bright, blue, glaring into my eyes.

He couldn't take it any more. And that was that. He was out of the door; gone. No goodbyes. No farewell, be back soon. And I remained behind. I must admit I thought he would never return. And I knew whose fault it was. Shards of glass scattered across the floor, the picture frame from which it had come from not far away. It had bounced on the wooden floor, shattered immediately, and fallen back to the ground. I sat. I wept. Shedding tears over the smashed glass around me. And he was there. A calming wave in an erupting volcano. Careful of the glass, he knelt, taking my hands in his. He gently removed pieces of glass from my hands as I sobbed

A kiss. What is a kiss? A simple meeting of the lips. Sometimes wet, sometimes so dry it hurts. Yet humans delight in it, obsess over it, even. What is there in the holding of a hand? Sweaty palms, fingers cramping. Yet not a day do I leave the house without seeing humans engaging in this simple act. These things made no sense. Until I had you. Relationships were a chore. I was bored. I got over one and moved on to the next one. That felt right. I had moments where I wished for a person back again. But I didn't really want them. I think that's because they weren't you. I didn't know it yet but you were going to be mine. In the moments I was

You may stand there High in your glory You will not change me You can stand there Oh so wonderful You will not bother me You may sit there Throne mightier than mine You will not frighten me You can sit there Thinking you are God You will not inspire me You may lie there Frowning down on the world You will not sadden me You can lie there Pretending to be big I am bringing you down

I will talk to myself Until I respond I will hit myself Until I hit back I won't let go of myself Until I stop lying I won't stop my control Until I am what I say I am I will beat myself Until I learn to love without fear I won't talk to myself Until I respond I won't hit myself Until I stop hitting myself I won't stop lying Until I let go of myself I won't be what I say I am Until I stop my control I won't love without fear Until I stop beating myself I'm not whole But have I pleased you all yet?

Sugar candy-cane And a lollipop You're the sweetest thing Cream of the crop Candy floss, skittles Chocolates and jelly tots You're the sweetest thing And I'm seeing dots Cute, handsome Take me on a trip Sugar trip, I'm high Hold on tight to my hip Don't let me fall You've made me fall For you, I fall In love I'm falling Call me baby again And I'll fall I swear I'll fall Sugar candy-cane And a lollipop You're the sweetest thing Cream of the crop