thin as bible pages, tough as barbwire-
love not forgotten.

I explain my metaphors with metaphors
I don't know how else to express
My thoughts that sit in clutter drawers
And leave my mind a mess

If you don't understand my comparison
I'll just say it in a different way
My thoughts still shielded by a garrison
Suppressing things I need to say

Don't mistake me for a common man
Not a usual materialistic person I am.

But I'll be the wealthiest man alive
When the gem with me I will have.

I look for a diamond immaterial
In a woman with a crystal heart.

A heart that beats for herself
Pumps truest love for myself.

Love she so kindly imparts
I hold onto it for ramparts.

From this world a respite
Alone I'm always so quiet.

Beautifully alone it beats
A saga it always repeats.

▪●☆●▪
Swirls of verbiage
begin to settle.
My wish..
that they land
to connect a thought.
Overflowing as
grapes cascading atop
sides of vessel
butter cup yellow.
Fruit of the
darkest purple persuasion.

I have visions.
Ribbons of colour.
Movements of flutter
Wet paint on pallette,
waiting for a
canvas to present itself. 

Shambolic as to how to
put it all together.
Can almost sense
the fit,
yet unable to develop
the arrangement.
The words, 
the vision
the pigments are there,
on the tip of my mind.

I wonder if, in the event
it all came spilling out,
I would be brave
enough to reveal.
Begin to heal.
If my canvas of words and
colors could describe.

Maybe then, it would all melt
together, becoming the
black of all colors, the no color...
allowing me
to begin anew.

▪○☆○▪

Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved