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
every. single. time. that i talk about how much
i love the rain,
someone always says
“hey.
did you ever think that maybe it’s because you live here,
where sun and heat is all you see
and mosquitos tickle at your skin every time you go out?”
and every time someone asks me that same question
i say no, because,
maybe i love something just because i do.
and then they follow up,
“hey,
do you ever think that if you moved to somewhere
that rained all the time
you would get sick of it
just like you did here?”
and i said no because, sorry texas,
i’ve never been particularly in love with
sunshine or swimming holes or the perfect sno-cone.
some things, you just love.
some things, you just don’t.
i think i understand love.
and happiness, too.
there’s few things that bring me the same comfort
as the pitter-patter of rain against a window
or the perfect smell of rain boots
or the puddles left for us to stomp in.
one of those is you.
and maybe you’re a little bit texas,
but i like you a whole lot better than
sunshine or swimming holes or the perfect sno-cone.
some things, i just love.
and one of them is you.
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?
Inkling 