Bloodied shackles, A caged impulse. Feathers of wild, Clipped once more. Your submission, Your suffocation. Whipped by affection, Or a power demonstration. Tamed. Proper. Broken. All for naught, When the circus closes. Our favorite memories Turned nightmares.
In a past life, I was in search of a god. My sins were lead And astray I truly was. I never found my savior. Not in sermons or hymns. Nor in poppy fields under blue skies. I never found absolution In prayer. Nor in manuscripts Written by men. I found peace in my shadow, With time. I found acceptance, And comfort. Not in my faith, But in rippled reflections And polished metals. I never…
With all the colors changing,and sensations fading. With Eyes lockedin passing. The air is ripe. With aspirations,pinned to a sleeve. A will is reborn.Delicately anew. With a canvas primedfor oils and plaster. A readily inked brush.A painful muse. Proceed. Laborious lovecut only for you.
The rain hits the windowThe trees are losing their leaves. Still you dancedUnder clouds.Knowing blossoms will sprout. Truly they did,Break earth with each step. Just like you. Bringing lifeWhere death was near. If I knewHow to dance,Your routineI would join you. I promise.I would. For now,I watch from my window.At the beauty now blossomed. I hear the rain.But I know of no clouds.
I write this To feel.. A touch, A tender brace. A graceful brush Of reassurance. I write this. To breath. In. Out. Out and in. A synergetic, Search for balance. For definitions. I say this. To be vulnerable. In the moment. In moments to come. In moments written, After I have etched my stone. For this, I must write.
