Can you hear me?
I come to you now,
birthed in the granite chaos
of your mind,
in the forgotten scars
of your heart.
In the reverie
of a definite
composure
you’ve come to hate me-
for disrupting your balance,
for denying you stability
in the reckless way you require.
Please.
I wish to be heard,
to be endowed with your graciousness.
I hurt. I am hurting.
You see that.
I make you feel that.
And you hate me for it.
I will not apologize.
I will hold onto you tightly.
Together,
we are nothing short
of juniper-blushed skies
in the July monsoon-
tenderly raging.
Please.
I need recognition
so I too
am not released
into the decay
of all things.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 2:16 AM UTC
It’s strange.
Lilies still in the wind.
An extraordinary wind at that.
Wind with a purpose so impertinent
It became love.
If you didn’t know any better,
You might name it something sweeter:
Abhorrence.
Your eyes sharp
And soft with desperation
Look at me for answers.
I’ve never seen anything quite like it
I marvel and speculate alongside you
We fall into a steady and cyclical dissonance
Are the lilies still anymore?
Yes, the sky is still blue. The grass,
Green.
It’s rather lovely.
I feel a tug. A pull.
With ease I lean into its plea
Spilling into silence,
I am gone.
You are here alone.
Delicately gilded, you are safe.
The lilies still in the wind.
Utterly strange.
Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 6:02 PM UTC