there I was
a mere dust mote of humanity
in this place
this spiritual monument to life
to history
mindful of the way
it wrapped its snug
but silken gloves
around the hands of my perception
your smile was a tease of affection
as you enquired how I could
amidst all this wonder
wax lyrical about a curve of railing
how it felt to the touch
a spiritual experience
where souls soar
among the grandeur
of a twinkling night sky
soothing reflections of deepest blue
it ignited senses
I marvelled the way
countless artists/architects
brushed
the bare skin of nature
against my own
how it united us
gave birth to concepts
I had yet to encounter
how it reminded me
time after time
that we are all connected
you mocked me for that concept too
almost as much as I mock myself
what a enormous statement to make
yet as countless moons
have waxed and waned
I have learnt that connection
between all living things
does not mean we love
everyone and everything
it simply dwells amongst us
an unspoken language
spanning generations
of human experience
not always by mutual agreement
but in moments
where the heart does not need
to harbour love or fondness
it merely knowingly- exists
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
there’s a suitcase
in an unmarked grave
bearing your name
inside
my former self rests
alongside a fragment
of a ship
which floats no more
that fateful journey
on the wings of sorrow
is buried forever
in a suitcase
fastened with three locks
it’s my immutable, final
~ I love you
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC
beautiful bright baubles
helium infused
carry my melancholy
along with the final wisps
of silken thread
from reawakened fingers
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:36 PM UTC
real sadness
doesn’t howl
or scream
it sits inside
your chest
weeping softly
not wanting
to disturb
the exuberant air
around them
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
the sound of their distinct caws
ebb and flow with the tide
their majestic swoop earthwards
is rewarded with morsels
of fried fish
we morph into polka dots
of movement
as we gather beneath
the breath of their wings
inhaling blue notes
salt dancing on dry lips
limbs long since surrendered
to sun bleached sands
the rise and fall
of a cacophony of voices
synchronises
with stories their eyes
cannot express
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 12:29 PM UTC