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| Struggling It's a funny thing how memories hurt, Years after they were made. How years of tears and poetry, Couldn't make them fade. How a simple little daily thing, Can trigger in your mind, Some haunting thoughts of yesterday, And pain again unwinds. It's a painful fact of life, my friend, We all must struggle through. And struggling gets pretty tough, Through memories of you. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 1984 |
The knife comes first. A searing pain, That radiates. Then heaviness, In the pit of the stomach. An overwhelming nausea, For which there's no relief. It crawls upward, Overtaking the lungs, Crushing the heaviness, The pressure. Suffocation sets in, but slowly. No air to breath. It hurts. It hurts so much, That sleep won't come. The eyes reflect it, Through glistening teardrops. As they stare into darkness, The mind reaches out, Attempting to capture, |Some form of sanity. Death at it's utmost. The broken heart. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 2002 |
| Waited If you had only waited, While I sorted through the colors, Of the feelings I had on. Our friendship could have grown. If I had only let you, See the circles and the prisms, Of the memories long gone. My heart you would have known. If the scars and ashes, Hadn't covered what is real, With clouds of yesterday. There may have been a smile. If time had not distorted, The shape of things to come, With a heart so far away. i might have stayed a while. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 2000 |
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| Pieces of us The file cabnet in the corner, Overflows with yesterday. Little written memories, Of loves who wouldn't stay. The notebook on the chest of drawers, Holds reminders of my past. A touch of friendship gone astray, True love that didn't last. There's a folder in the bootom drawer, With pieces tucked inside. Just little bits of you and me, I put in there to hide. The album on the closet shelf, It's cover thick with dust. The trinkets and the photographs, The things that once were us. A lifetime full of memories, All pressed and tucked away. With all the love down in my heart, Locked deep inside to stay. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 1982 |
| My heart is content to love your sweet memory. So let's leave it there forever. Cause sometimes love can't survive being together. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 1984 |
| Things I collect things, they usually wind up on the closet shelf. I have rooms full of things. They make me feel special. Inadament objects, That don't walk away. They're colorful things. Boxes full of Purple, pink and blue. I like bright things. They make me feel unique. Plastic trinkets, That won't ever leave. miniture toys from the fast food place. Little stuffed bears from the five and dime. Lifeless little creatures who need me. I have lots of things collected over the years. Angels of the ceramic variety line the top of the dresser. When lonely hurts too much, I buy more things. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 2001 |
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| Holding on, Or letting go, Makes no difference really. It's all the same. A conscious act, of give and take. Lost in the darkness of origin, and the absence of destiny. by Lauri McGill Galentine copyright 2003 |
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