For years, I hid in fear of letting anybody near
But once I came out of hiding, there was nobody there.
Tag: loneliness
Malingering
I tip toe over broken glass with the same meticulous pace that I distance myself from a broken heart.
One and one don’t always align, and I fear the sound of shattering from a pair mismatched. Like magnets, only the opposite sides attract, but when pulled apart, a bit of myself leaves with you each time.
Under planetary bodies, rising sun and waning moon are no match for the tides that move me pensively in your direction. Were you any more poisonous, I surely still would long for just the slightest taste and suffer the lasting bitterness.
The home of your arms is lined with brambles so shallow they only pierce my skin. Alas, my buoyant heart rests at my surface to bask in the heat in your eyes – vulnerable for those thorns to pierce.
With closed eyes I meander around sharp debris, heart still aching, hoping that things will change. The scars haven’t faded, the pieces of me have not regenerated, and though in my latent pace I hope you return to me, I know that I’m shamefully malingering.
Moss on the Glass
An old dreary home, a homely abode
I sit in the rocking chair and glare at the clouds
I await the shower that will come cascading down
And rinse all the dust from the glass – at last
The thunder rumbles and rattles my heart
It bounces against these feeble ribs, as fragile as it is
Can it not break under the ivory cage? I almost wish it did
As it keeps throbbing in lament, it keeps on reaching for my grave
And I retreat beyond the door, the warped wood and oak grain
I watch behind the window pane, so solitary in my pain
The lightening dashes across the grey
And I see sparks in stolid dullness
Peaking through the crawling moss
As it conceals my window panes.
I call them hopeful and yet foolish, those wretched vines
I call them weeds and I call them lies
They seep into my tough stronghold
They seep their roots between my fingers’ hold
I want to watch the world go down in flames
And then be doused by rain
But the moss, it covers my window pane
I don’t want to hope, but it eases my pain.
Earthquakes!
Faces.
Bits of age old places; barbed wire fences in smiling braces.
Furrowed brows the farm-rows before the crops,
Teary eyes the waterfalls and then the sparse rain drops.
Earthquakes!
Hearts shudder and pound violently out of control.
Sparse flaws on the skin; soft little knolls,
Moon craters, crevices and sun-spot moles.
Folding ocean surface ripples, delicate creases and wrinkles.
Bright eyes, starry skies, glittery make up and colorful dyes,
Algae blooms’ impending doom and faint hair highlights – plant-derived.
Summer breezes sighs of delight, warm breathes and sun-bleached sights.
Earthquakes!
Panicked shaking, tsunami waves and crippling fright.
Morning dew on green grass blades, beads of sweat on blushing faces,
Bird songs echoing in the day, melodies repeated on radio stations.
Your smile: so eternal, eroded into the mountainous region.
Earthquakes….
My heart still tremors. Your smile remains after all of the seasons.
Beyond this Smile 