There are times in life when one becoms a poet; when that joy and pain becomes irepressible and it wakes you up in the middle of the night to write the songs and wails of the heart

If you cannot join me
in my darkness
or weep as my heart breaks
I will ask what love is.
Will you buy me cigarettes
in the morning?
and serve me whiskey for lunch?
If you won't
I will ask what love is.
Can you see me in my empty eyes?
then feel the void in your heart?
If not, I will ask what love is.
In my asking
will you ask with me?
And if you shall
I will know what love is.

There's nothing different about the looks on those faces you recognize and hold dear. There was never anything ordinary about the faces you ignore. All are one and the same, besides what you invest in them. There is only one face, ever before you in a hundred wise, only one day infinitely repeating.