As the sun rises
At the edge of oblivion
I stood here with the intent of plummeting
This heart wavering at its end
Barely pumping 
My soul no longer at its pasture

Wait,
What is this? What’s this sound? A tune?
A sudden melodic presence staggered my senses
Awoke from my nightmare of fatuous melancholy past
This tune
This melody
This beautiful presence
Brought my soul back to innocence

I can see her
But I couldn't see her face
Her fire sparks as she plays
I can feel her entity-
Rupturing every part of my enmity
She’s in this glass with infinite bright
The lark who saves every norm from falling
Igniting her flames to those in need

But I did fall
I fell hard
Not to my demise
But for this girl with the violin

And I feel alive
For the first time
I feel alive.


@Erennwrites

This stupid book has nothing to offer me
In eight pages on stiff paper board.
The pictures are saccharine,
A fat headed boy
In colorful clothes
Shows us what he can do.
How could I see the value
In knowing this simple stuff?
I’m too far removed from my point in time
When “jump” and “run” were just sounds,
When jumping and running were just what they are,
Far removed from the labels we gave them.

So it comes to this: this stupid book
Among all of God’s ink-sodden paper,
Is an achievement of gold,
the height of literature,
a swell in my throat,
When you brought it to me
just today, and said,
“dada”
“read”

I catch a glimpse of my / utopia in your scintillating eyes / I sense peace in your touch / and hear salvage in the beating of your heart under my ear / perhaps I am too idealistic about the perhaps of us although / I have nothing but sour memories and / skeletons in my overflowing bedroom closet / I cling to the possibility there is / some decent people out there / I have brought proper weapons to this war / my heart has back up this time / I refuse to be hurt anymore

It's a ridiculous cliche but, ******* it, your eyes...
Forgive me if I don't always make eye contact,
Or look away too soon.  I'm listening. I swear it.
I'm afraid you might think that I'm full of myself,
Or afraid you might think that I've no self-esteem.
The truth is much simpler than either extreme.
The truth is I'm somewhere right in between.
but still:
Twin seas draw my stare and I fear what I'll say.
Fear falling into their unlit depths, where even my silence could betray.
The source to illuminate and fuel our lives' desires,
Find it in her hands , her touch,
Find it in her eyes.
Her eyes of ocean depth see me,
Giving no safe place to hide,
Searching bad cliches for the light, the otherness inside.
But what if all of my words are wrong?
What if they drive you away?
What if the light between oceans is mute?
Insufficient to make you stay?