the mystery
of what is left unspoken
can be answered
by what is not.
the mystery
of what is left unspoken
can be answered
by what is not.
Darkness.
I can see it
My eyes are open, but I am still blind
I can feel it.
Empty, hollow, and a velvety sorrow.
I can taste it
A bittersweet fear, mixed with salty tears
I can hear it
A silent muted sound of desperation.
And my pulse racing with perspiration
I stretch out my hand to seek your solace
Nothing
I call out your name, so we can embrace
Nothing
I feel the loneliness creep up my spine
Nothing
I repeat my mantra that I am fine
Nothing
Darkness cannot exist without light
But where is the light in my time of need?
The light is the only thing my soul can heed
I press on in the pitch black despite my conscience opposition
The darkness draws me in without caution
I’m convinced that you are in the darkness waiting for me
I just can’t see
I continuously call out your name
Nothing
Hoping you will do the same
Nothing
Extending my hand for your touch
Nothing
I miss your voice so much
Nothing
No light can set apart
The darkness in my heart
I call for you once more in the absence of your presence
Nothing
I am nothing
So I welcome the darkness, not as an enemy
But an old friend.
Who my heart will cherish to the end
a·vi·a·tion
That which man previously thought impossible,
now sold commercially.
The world is connected by flights
to any destination one could need.
Millions fly every day, strapping themselves in,
preparing for their stomachs to counteract the
soaring climb through the clouds.
Some excited,
Some terrified.
As the wings soar through the pinkest of skies,
Most are scared of the plane itself,
yet there’s one thing i’d fear most-
it’s stepping out of the jetway, and
seeing you-
the one who leaves sunspots in my eyes.
What’s it like knowing
that the slightest touch of your hands
would surmount any ascent through the skies?
lovely,
You like to play with danger, don’t you?
Sexuality undulating like the ocean’s waves, wit as sharp as the scissors in your back pocket
Of course, you say, I like to be hands on, you say as you cut open the package with
One single line of bad intentions.
My eyes drop down to the dirt beneath the plot of grass, and
The toe of your left cowboy boot’s digging in to the very earth that birthed you
Mother, oh Mother, where are you now?
The entirety of my mind is a word-search puzzle,
Full of the words I cannot say because they’re all scrambled up hopelessly,
Like the eggs your papa used to cook for us when we were still just sleepy kids
But over the years I’ve learned the hard way not to hold your hand for too long because
You like to play with danger… don’t you?
Through their eye’s everything is magnified,
A light touch is a mighty blow,
A flick of a switch is a raging storm,
A small ember is a seething hell,
They feel the need to convert experiences into masterpieces
Be it photos, drawing, music or writing
It may just be a snap of a camera but it’s their way of capturing their life and seeing it from a new perspective
It may just be a few sketchy lines but it’s how they portray their emotions and discover themselves
It may just be a few notes but it’s their sole way of communicating with the world
It may just be ink to a page but it’s their emotions soaring over the white landscape
The need to fill the obsidian darkness which lingers within
To drop the mask, stand back and watch it shatter
So you go and judge but we won’t be the one’s coughing up the ashes of a burnt out flame.
Some
Rainy
Days
I
Like
To
Look
Up
At
The
Clouds
Through
My
Skylight
And
I
Watch
The
Droplets
Fall
Like
Words
In
A
Poem
Sorta
Like
This
One
And
I
Think
Of
How
You
Used
To
Hold
My
Hand
And
Kiss
My
Softly
On
The
Tip
Of
My
Nose.