I'm lonely as a
dancing ghost in
empty Halls,
waltzing through
memories of a
Banquet set for
many, yet no one arrived.

I long for
her on winter nights
when Christmas is a lie.

Sometimes,
I catch
myself Swaying,
like there is
an eternal metronome
that my spirit
hears.
Or,
A song that my
soul must keep
time with.
It beats to the art
that surrounds me.

Such a delicate balance,
between the cactus and
the sun.
Between the dog and
the bone.

When they autopsied the
Tin Man, there were
irises and orchids and
Neruda poems where
his heart should have
been.

Love is an overused
word,
but an underused
gift.

Prolonging the sadness, stringing
out those fears
Causing shadows to be cast ,
through the bitterness and tears
The pale acquisition, mistakes and
the lies
The cold as the sun goes down
before the light dies

My first write in sometime. Thank you for taking the time to read.

faith in God
is
what we share
in
this world
because
we
have to stretch
His holy name
across
the
sacred sky bridge
thus
He
reflects every
color in the rainbow

the worlds want me to fly higher,
        but you don't care about my
        wings so i cut it & put in a box.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dreams.
        i want to chase winds.
        but they say most birds who
        chase wind are fools,
        so i stop chasing.
        i had a dream,
        my imperfect dream.
        i want to vanish without a trace.
        crazy for a little bird like me
        who cut its wings.
        a long time ago
        i had a nest called
        home(house)?
        i don't know
        i don't care
        maybe someday
        if you care enough
        i will have a courage
        to find my wings again
        
        ©IGMS 2020