I Believe In God... But I Don't

Patience. I Colored Patience Gray, Hung Over With Black Clouds. I Colored Hope Yellow, Just Like The Sun We Could See For A Few Short Morning Hours. Too Soon The Sun Rose High In The Sky & Disappeared From View, Leaving Us Bereft And Staring At Blue.

There Was A War Going On In Our House. A Silent War That Sounded No Guns, And The Bodies That Fell Were Only Wishes That Died And The Bullets Were Only Words And The Blood That Spilled Was Always Called Pride.

Perhaps Lovers Aren't Supposed To Look Down At The Ground. That Kind Of Story Is Told In Symbols-and Earth Represents Reality, And Reality Represents Frustrations, Chance Illnesses, Death, Murder, And All Kinds Of Other Tragedies. Lovers Are Meant To Look Up At The Sky, For Up There No Beautiful Illusions Can Be Trampled Upon.

My Thoughts Took Frantic Flight, Wanting To Escape This Prison, And Seek Out The Wind So It Could Fan My Hair And Sting My Skin, And Make Me Feel Alive Again.

It Is So Appropriate To Color Hope Yellow, Like The Sun We Seldom Saw. And As I Begin To Copy From The Old Memorandum Journals That I Kept For So Long, A Title Comes As If Inspired. 'open The Window And Stand In The Sunshine.' Yet, I Hesitate To Name Our Story That. For I Think Of Us More As Flowers In The Attic.