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for she
<>
"I choose to love you in silence, for in silence I find no rejection.
I choose to love you in loneliness, for in loneliness no one owns you but me.
I choose to adore you from a distance, for distance will shield me from pain.
I chose to kiss you in the wind, for the wind is gentler than my lips.
I choose to hold you in my dreams, for in my dreams you have no end"

Rumi
<>

writ in a time, for when
there is never enough,
and yet,
always, waves of too much,
needy for
filling feeling fulfilling

We must learn,
be self taught to:

"Leave a tender moment alone
You got to leave a tender moment alone
Leave a tender moment alone
Leave a tender moment"

ah the tender time is nonetheless
rightly and wrongly
rightly now,

for I have stumbled,
overheated, sweaty, from the night bed,
at 4.30am into another darkened toom,
and I have smacked~stumbled into
Rumi
and her

our paths continuously intersect,
in the same but
in different cities, continents,
and yet,
diffident, differing,
we silently choose
never to close those lady~last few miles
and tie the knot of
eyes, skin, lips
the instruments
that transmit thousands of
neuronal explosions that
seal the deal

so we write in poetry,
in silence broken by the gentility
of fingertips soundlessly
and yet,
boundlessly rocking,
explosively soundings of
tap tap tapping

my music mocks me,
it is definitively god interfering,
advising, conspiring,
wiring into my brain
better lyrics,
idealized notions,
exactly appropriate
and appreciated

with the lyrics urging me on,
and that we must be
self taught to:

"Leave a tender moment alone
You got to leave a tender moment alone
Leave a tender moment alone
Leave a tender moment"

but my heart trembly refuses,
insightful informing
that now,
now! is
the moment to exchange
vows of words,
though un spoke,
they require
written completion
through
& though
apart, alone,
to finally out loud confess
what has always been known, only to each other,
to be
so real

and yet*,

we will never exchange
these sentiments
in out loud words

but though this be lacking,
it will never
diminish
their  ultimate
intimate
truthfulness

and I ask,
is this a poem?

surely
it is that, and
so much more,
an essay, a letter on
invisible NML stationary,
a heart carving in
an oaken barrelling of
ancient vintagery

and that interloper,
Him again,
eavesdropping
on this private communication,
insists that I draw deep
from her favorite
singer~songwriter,
words that say it better,
that for real seal the deal,
in the saddened perfection
of total, enwrapped,
silence:

"Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence"

and
it is time
to finish this task,
it is exactly one hour,
no time at all,
to complete a love poem that
is/was complete,
even before its
composition
and yet,
is never to be be familiar with
the finality of
completion
<>

postscript:

I taste your private shed tears,
hear the howling sigh,
but most of all,
'tis the explosion of
a deep smiling creasing
your lips,
spreading in all directions
saying and stating:

at last, at last!
a lasting, a confessional to you god,
though,
a through and through
silent
jubilation
                                              ­             nml

April 8, 2025
530am
New  York  City
excerpted lyrics from Billy Joel and
Paul Sumon
Have you ever had a dream so real it broke your reality?
I mean, it absolutely shatters the way you look at a person. Of course, it wasn't real. But how easily it could be. Your brain catches all of your fears and weaves them into a web of insecurity that plays every time you close your eyes.

If I could sleep forever, would I know that I'm dreaming? Would it end the deep, or would I wake up screaming?

All I see are his eyes plunging through the dark, falling further away from me.

His fingers curled round my face in a traitorous touch. His lips on my lips as he turns into dust. He is nothing but sand on the cliff side scattered in the breeze. And I am nothing but weakness trembling on my knees.

Why did I push him?
ghostsonpaper Jul 2024
He's like a fever dream I woke from and can barely remember
On the edge of my memory
The tiniest sliver
It's been a few months
He got lost in the blur
All I can recall are his horrendous last words

'Hey, do me a favor. If you ever feel like reaching out, don't. I'll make you hang yourself on your feelings and have you look stupid.'

That broke something so deep seeded in me
Ripped out all the good I ever thought I seen
Three and a half years deleted from my brain
Everything fading until you've been completely erased.
ghostsonpaper May 2024
I'm not sure I'd call it fun for it often has me undone but I'm a writer
I could bite off my own tongue and still my silence would be sung through pen and paper
1000 stories in my mind if I could only find the time to speak my truth
This is not a simple ryhme listen as it takes hold, blossoms and explodes
This is my proof
But my words come tumbling out
spilling jumbled from my mouth in perfect chaos
I sift through the disorder
As I struggle against the borders that contain me
One day I'll find the words to explain how I see

Lost in their own message hidden among the wreckage is the importance of all the lies unknown to you

My mind interrupts my day whenever it has something to say and I can't fight it
ghostsonpaper Sep 2023
You hold my lines in your hands
As I write between them
All of the things that I need them to say

You read the words
But don't speak their truth
They don't reverberate

It's like a film developed in the wrong light
You can see it but it doesn't look right
Or is it all the same to you

How does the building stand when her structure breaks
She wants to hold steady
But she isn't ready to hold all the weight

And there she crumbles
So you can walk away
ghostsonpaper Aug 2023
There are monsters in the deep
That eat our secrets while we sleep
If they make it to the light
Will they betray us

Will people run away in fear
As the beast slowly appears
Or will they see the true face beneath the atrocity

All the pain so long held hidden
From relief that's been forbidden
Burdened by the weight of all its shame

Shielded from their frowns
By wearing someone else's crown
Answering only to the name that you've been gifted

He comes for her at night
His face an awful fright
Close your eyes and release him from his prison

As he ravages the town
For new secrets to be found
She wonders if her own can be forgiven
ghostsonpaper Jul 2020
I will never have enough time or paper or energy or words to tell you everything I wanted to say to you but here’s trying..

how easy it was to sit and fill these pages
with all the words that I could never say to you
when you were still right here beside me
though never said that doesn’t make them untrue
I wish I would have said them to you
just cry it out right here on paper
even now these lines are full of doubt
grab a bottle and regret it later
we both know I’m still lying to myself about you
I never thought you’d be more than all you meant to me
I thought I had time
don’t rush in blind
I can write it all now
but I hope you knew
you have not only died one death to me
you die a little death daily
when I reach for you in the middle of the night
when I search for you in a stranger’s eyes
all I have left is behind glass and on paper
it’s your picture on the wall
not your face that I wake to
don’t take me back to times that were so easy
before life had become nothing but grieving
and giving up on harder days
I’ve become so numb that for a while I forget to hurt
but the pain always returns
I still don’t want to hear sound reason for why it happened this way
I’m sure I could’ve learned these lessons another way
I’m trying to find comfort in anything that makes me feel close to you
everyone comes into your life for a reason and we may never understand why they can’t stay
I still have the charm for the bracelet I never made you
I thought I had time
but all I have is this letter to you
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