They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…
Every Tuesday
She would pick her flowers
And write her songs
No one knows much about her
What she really thought
How she felt about things
They only remember her sadness and her tragedy
I like to think
I know what she felt,
Some nights
At 3am
I can hear her playing the piano
Its music fills the halls upstairs
Some nights
When the moon is full
And melancholy
You can see her window open
Her wide, deep, dark eyes
And her blue dress
Sometimes it’s white
But she’s only there for a minute
And then she’s gone
You might see her at the top of the stairs
Or entering someone’s room
Trying to find something she’s left behind
I’ve seen some of her paintings
Some of her sketches
And heard her songs
I think I know what it must have felt like
To be filled so full
And not know
How to express it
To feel so alone
Like an outsider
Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….
They say
You feel the fear
And the terror
If you see her face though
The pain of dying
The air turns cold
I don’t believe it
I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself
No one knows what really happened to her
Her letters
Still show up under my door
That’s when I find her paintings
Inside empty rooms
Sometimes they’re in the park
I’ve seen her walking
When the moon is full
And the fog is down,
I don’t know why she talks to me
Maybe it’s because we are both alone
Filled with things to say
And unsure of how to say them
Maybe it never goes away
Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,
Maybe we just keep on trying
Even after we’re gone….
I don’t know her name
I only call her the moon queen….
Regarding Samuel 