~The Things They Cant See~


She has everything I want and she's all I'll never be,
and she takes it all for granted while I stand jaded in my envy.

What makes her so blind, there is so much of you she cant see,
I'd die to know this subtle sensuality and to make your discoveries.

I see your situation and the place she keeps you in,
in this game of pain ... neither heart will win.

Don't misunderstand me ... you don't have to explain or confess,
I understand completely ... you see I'm living in the same distress.

But I'm not without compassion, I have been in her place,
sometimes shadows follow us, memories time cant erase.

Still I find my consolation in the losses of her circumstance,
loneliness and longing creates the need for temporary romance.

Momentary distractions give brief comfort and aid,
I'm trying not to feel guilty ... they didn't keep the promises made.

You see in me ... what she cant see in you,
these things we have in common, are what divides lives in two.

The rule "we only want what we don't have" ... seems to be true,
all I want ... is for them to see in us -- all the things I see in you.

I know there are two sides to every story ... something to defend,
but all I ever wanted was a lover who would still be my friend.

She has everything I want, and she is all I'll never be ...
with the exception perhaps, of eyes that receive.

He was all I ever wanted ... yet he looks right thru me,
all my gains and losses are found in the things they cant see.

janet marie


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~Eyes That Cant See~

If I was blind ... the way you seem to be...
then I would be spared--seeing all that's dying right in front of me.
Were there any witnesses ... were you notified...
did you even mourn -- when all my hope and desire died.
Your so oblivious...there are so many women living here inside of me.
Would you even realize...if I were to set any of them free.
Is it delusion that blinds ... every night lying here next to a stranger.
Somebody should explain...warn you of denials danger.
You wont give thanks--but you'll sure ask for favors.
When did love become a chore, when did it become such a labor.
Is there such a thing...as an innocent infidelity,
its only a distracting illusion...to comfort this dying reality.
What will it take for you to see--if I was bleeding out my eyes...
would you then understand...would you then hear my cries.

I wish I was blind...
the way that you seem to be,
Then I wouldn't have to watch...this love dying deep inside of me.

janet marie

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**reposts from open 6...
anyone seen my moody muse