My heart strings are pulled at their ends when you’re not around.
Even seconds without you feel agonizing. Hours are odd.
I’m incomplete without the last piece.
Every bone feels cold and dry. My eyes are opposite to them.
My heart breaks a million times. Whenever you walk away.
But rebuilt when you dance back in.
the hollowness inside,
a cage made of
withered bone.
looking up towards
the ascending light.
the visceral walls
grow deeper.
a blur of blackness.
frosted finger tips
clinging to the edges,
an uneven puzzle
of rock and concrete.
the nails snapping away,
every crack screams
an agony pushed back.
time and time again,
released in a carnal
needle through a rusted
grave stone. floating
above the sunken
foot prints on
an exterior of
the dirt-water glazed
mud. a tear drops
infinitely like
a wasted fall.
without notice
until it hits
the surface .
my flower stimulates
the visually knit-picky retina,
&sends afferent signals
to the brain, with enough
essence and fragrance to waltz
through the cranial
nerve fibers of the nostril.
It sings a beautiful, light,
like smooth caramel,
tone that slenderly slides
in through the external
auditory meatus.
and gracefully
knocks on my tympanic membrane
with that gently caressing,
“babe”. With a touch
of silk against, the microscopic hairs
on the lower limbs. a tempest
of a lusting friction raise
their counterparts, superiorly
at the neck. With tears
that descend like
a rain of petals.
and a smile thats infinitesimally
more significant & simply
more beautiful & inspiring
than dozens, or even millions.
Everyday doubt shrouds the mind.
Its facade, whispers lies into the ear
like a mirror on a wall of social ideals.
A mirror, in reality, should reflect
what it cannot see.
what the world has a loose,
sliding grip on. Its chilling&
skin tingling touch would
melt at the idea of this.
the eyes of beauty
behold a deep sole.
that someones soul,
solely, can make
a man burn through
his soles. running
to his soul mate
for her soul.
just a simple
expectation
of a mirror maker.
Those moments, when,
I realize how greatly luck favors me.
Never will frowns over take my days.
or a gloom depression sweeping with anxiety
tell me otherwise.
Life, God, the universe or “to each his own”
showered me with all the luck in the world.
An invisible road map guides the wandering being
to where his journey molds him.
That feeling right after you ascend from the bottom of the pool. As your face gleams across the surface. The water rushing downward and outwardly like an immense vessel rising from the depths of the ocean. The feeling of the fresh, crisp and overpowering air as you rise from the water. The feeling of your first breath inhaled. hold your breath. exhale. The moment our eyes catch each other in an seemingly endless dance. Waltzing in an optic ballroom. Foxtrotting through stares and blinks. A smile that starts like a sunrise. and descends with the sunset.
&when we sleep alone, we remember why we never wanted to.
And sometimes we think when the moment is wrong. When we think it’s not perfect. When it doesn’t meet our expectations. It surprises us. In the most subtle ways too. Sometimes true beauty resonates within overcoming yourself. Overcoming your insecurities. Your faults, your failures, your what-if scenarios. You disregard your past. You’ve forgiven but had trouble forgetting. At the end of the day, you think it has the best of you. You think the haunting skeletons in your closet still bear your darkest crosses and deepest & most agonizing cuts. But that moment. That perfect moment. Makes
You forget. Makes you realize what a purple, blue, pink and orange sunset doesn’t always happen. That fingers intertwined aren’t always made for each other. That our legs and heart strings are perfectly tangled like a puzzle of the most beautiful and scenic picture. The moment makes you grateful that things truly and always are perfect.
sometimes our minds wander
into nostalgic worlds.
they seem seperated
&distant.
knowing a person’s
past is like viewing
a shell before
it was cracked.
To know what hands
molded their inner being.
what experiences
they desperately
longed for,
or so ominously
haunted them.
reading the lips
of spoken words.
tie us to different
worlds.
though our future
rises from the ashes
of our past.
we presently know
what we are, where
we want to go.
& how we’ve gotten here.
I sat in a daze. My brain was floating in a fog. Swaying back and forth with the ebb and flow of contemplative liquids.
I sat there, numb. My veins did not pump blood but emptiness, air and space. I could feel nothing yet everything through them.
I sat there, you smiled. I sighed. A simple touch sent radiance through my skin. A drop into a puddle, a domino effect. The little hairs on my arm stood like statues. A smirk peaked up like the sun over a hill, just enough to know its there.
I sat there, deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Remembered I’m still beating. A slow thud like the end of an emotional bodily exchange of souls. My heart was ringed out like a towel soaked in red wine.
I sat there, and smiled back at you. Lip bitten, eyes wide. Forget the pounding, the closing of everything that felt whole. Forget about a necessity of life. Avoiding the light the end of shadow entombed tunnel. Remembering to inhale rebirth, accept change, and to breathe.
