Curving fingers
Tear streaks
Toned words,
Tracing around
The curve of my heart

Seeping words
And the thoughts
Attached...
Tracing the
Unique troughs
And crevices:
Modelling the
Sensation of
Clenching

Swirling..
.

These sensations
Aren't foreign
To my mind
Even if the
Feeling is
Or isn't;
Almost tangible

And
Yet
I
Clench
Stop
Freeze
I am
Stuck in place

I'll tell you
The story of the circle
Stuck in its path
Slowly turning
Moving forward and yet
Slowly turns back
And although the circle
Tries to pull
Away from its path
The curve is set,
The beginning is its end
Nothing changes;
Not it's knowledge,
It's perspective
Or prosperity.
Full circle,
No beginning
No end.

I'm sorry but I'm
Thankful all the same
I wanted and yet
You weren't above
The values that I hold dear
And as these values
Continue to slip away
Along with
Everything else
I do not regret
The choices I've made

I am not a creature who regrets
And yet I know when that day comes
I will

Like always, droplets slid down her skin
Stilling my mind and replacing any thoughts
With a rush of yearning
And as she slid in
Tears immediately sprang forth
For her warmth was oh so welcome
As I lay in a room almost lightless and foreign

Her fingers curved around
The angles of my face
As she lay in the warm covers
Of my bed with me.
Our foreheads joining
And our eyelids slowly closing,
The haunting light of the
Unknown shining through
Curtained windows
Were forgotten.

I want to be treated gently
And yet valuably at the same time.
I want to be in your embrace
And yet sharing my hugs when you're not fine.
I'd give.... To build that value,
A value I cannot find...
For love is a construct
In a society that views construct as wine;
Bought, spent, intoxicating...
Not a feeling developed over time,
Not a feeling of mutual respect,
Not a feeling learning and value...

And I do want love,
But not in a society like mine...

No conversations to be overheard
The irregular ticking of the character keys on a laptop
Carrying through the carriage
The sound of metal water bottles opening
The warmth... In this usually cool atmosphere
Is almost all encompassing

Whispers...

Whispers of danger
Creeping closer
Slowly...
Chaotically...
And one by one
A sneeze
A request to be excused
The escaping vibrating pitches from earphones
The instinct to protect oneself
Almost overwhelming
Instead
Conversations dim
And thoughts halter
The body preparing itself...
Or maybe it's just me

I who have a hollow shaft
I,
Who lilts with the barest surge of wind,
I... who has fallen from the
Grace of my comfort
And has nothing to lean back on... I...

I see the ink of many
Vibrant, loud and subtle
Colours that fly around
Colours that I reach out for
And write with.
And yet where
Is my ink?
Am I doomed to
Nonexistence?
And yet I
In my own essence
Gurgle, fluctuate,
Still finding my flow
Against the turbulence of
My mind fraught with
Dissociated thoughts.

And as the feather flows against
The winds
Swaying
Gently
My ink is of air
And world
And nature