There's an ache deep within my heart
An itch that cannot be scratched
Perhaps, a space that cannot be filled in
Currently occupied with anger, confusion, and pain

Nor am I clear on what I'm looking for
But every now and then, the tears do pour in a stupor
...

Is this loneliness?...
But I'm happy alone,
Always been,
happy on my own...
Is this ungratefulness?...
But what is it that is my happiness?...

...

No invitations have been yet sent
It will remain a vacant room, no one to rent
For now and a little bit longer,
... I know,... for sure..
For sure...

As bitter as it is bitter,
let's somehow keep looking for... the better...

The better...
The... better...
?
...

of skin, arms, legs, and
chin. The only thing
that grows is the hair and the nails
on my fingers and my toes. I take

this prison with me
as I leave.  I paint it with golden
glossy dyes and red polish. So, it shines
over the men that befriend and

abolish. Most don’t see this
cage. It fits me as I age. I can fly. But
I'm not free. I can travel the world
But I take this little girl curled up in a ball

and flung around my shoulders
as a shawl with me. And she weeps. So, I wipe
her eyes with sunflowers and rose gardens
till it looks like we're pardoned. That's key.

i will not blind you,
and I will not strike you with my brightness,
if you want to find me
you will always find me in the same place, on its axis
motionless,
endearing statue admiring the cute pigeons kissing,
i will not run after the sun,
i will not run after other stars, or
after the moon
for
i'm not made to walk from place to place,
not when the sun ribut not even at sunset,
if you want, in a day
or a century
you'll find me still,
for
the sky is moving for me,
you will always find me in the same place,
saguaro flower surrounded by stars,
and
if you want to see me
without the horizon or the height of the celestial heaven staying our way
you could move to sweden,
i will not blind you,
and i won't hit you like thunder,
and, if you want, even it might take  several years
i could clone myself as the southern cross,
or
in the little cloud of magellan,
and if you want to be the big cloud, there are proven advantages that in their strangeness they are poorer in metals than the milky way,
but,
better, though, i'd say, it is more practical to wait for you in sweden


#polaris

Dear rain lovers,

Come, let us enrich
our souls with
the love droplets
pouring from the sky.

Music lifts one up
It expresses what we feel
Fills our heart and soul
It can touch the world
Connect all of us
Communicate our story
Tell our history and future
It can paint a picture
With sound
It can calm us or excite
Causing us to dance
It inspires us
Sometimes it can make us laugh
It’s a mirror into the best of us
It’s healing and powerful
We need it
It is magic

Nothing comes naturally
anymore nothing
flows through you and makes you
forget time
everyone tells you It's coming back
It' coming
back but you just wonder
when and how

our fingertips meet gently on the rim of porcelain
and as we take a sip from liquid infinity
all the numbness abides - induced by frost and rain.

the ember glow ascending from your eyes -
no tender coffee with cream could ever achieve -
is the epitome of what makes my inner child arise.

and i adore the way your index finger moves around the surface of the storm-kissed-window,
while you utter your thanks for whatever makes this autumnal evening swirl in an indigo-colored vertigo.

and i see it too.

© fey (27/12/21)