Silently responding to them,
without them even knowing they were speaking to you.
Watching their lives go by, as yours stands right there,
patiently waiting for your stories to align.

Rejecting all that is right in front of me,
the sun slowly descending into the sea's horizon.
Imperceptible opportunities lost at sea,
as you won't ever see them rising.

The sun will come up yet once more,
the same phenomenon right in front of you.
Except it no longer holds the opportunity that last time, left shore.
A chance dissolved into a sea of blue.

Take a chance,
Make amends.

Odd looks as your passion seems meaningless,
your way of investing in yourself insignificant too.
Hidden envy of something they do not possess,
continue as long as it matters to you.

The indistinct tones of our stories finally being told,
abandoned park benches full of unloved writers.
Forbidden voices that are louder than ever,
welcome to the era of literary fighters.

No one told me it would last this long,
endlessly throwing logs in to the fire to prevent the end of our song.

The tenderness in closing your eyes,
as if she were right there.
Holding your picture in a wooden frame,
slowly moving it towards her chest.

Her chin rising as yours sinks,
closing her eyes and lowering her head once again.
A single tear descending with it,
to touch the photo's glass and to dry up next to the others.

Placing the photo back on the shelf,
as you turned your back she does too.
And forgets,
at least, until next morning.

As we both tenderly close our eyes again,
And imagine the other,
doing what they never will.

The song of green and brown,
whispered by the wind through countless branches and leaves.
A touching song sung by many silent hearts,
often perceived as a tender silence.

Captured by nature's beauty and silenced by her song,
moving with the roots as you learn to let yourself go.
Let yourself feel with your lips sealed,
your feet hidden beneath the warm- and cold-coloured leaves.

Leaves that rush by like an everlasting melody of harmony.

A tear rolling down my face and I don’t even notice.
I’ve been all alone this time and I hope that you know this.
By my lonesome I was staring in the distance.
All I truly felt was that time was you getting more distant.
Other than that I feel pretty numb.
Not even frightened anymore of what’s to come.
Lost myself along the road to this.
Leaning into nothing for that final kiss.

And as you look that nothing deep in the eyes.
You realise all had already been erased from her mind.

Hold on to your melody,
whatever emotion it may bear.
Carry on playing it endlessly,
let it be the reason for the smile or frown you wear.

Let it define you and let yourself change the words to it sometimes,
let it be an incentive to read between the lines.

Seeking recognition in moments I am not proud of myself,
reassurance of the non-existent.
Stacking insecurities on to a fragile shelf,
just to collapse in to the floor and forget where it even went.

The abstractness of solitude,
a vibrant painting in an abandoned exhibition.
As loneliness often viewed,
no longer getting any recognition.

From another viewpoint taken in to consideration,
same colours but an entirely different creation.
Revolving around it and taking a moment,
a new view of the same component.

Solitude as a partner to breathing,
it's all a matter of perceiving.

Her freckled back like the sky on a starry night,
blue eyes like the sky on a brighter day.
Stars were falling as I held her tight,
clouds formed as she stepped away.

Noticing my attention is drifting towards me,
a once flourishing petal in the streaming clear water.
Water bound to debouch in a in a sea full of opportunity,
even though I still seem to question the latter.

As his water seems twice as deep,
making it harder for the petal to take the leap.