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I often wonder how you’re doing
     but I wish I didn't care
Even though you never told me you were leaving
     with a mouthful of words left unsaid
Still circling back to touch the growing space
     between ―  twice you broke my heart

I felt you slip away in autumn gold
     fading like the morning dew
Love can drift away like a molted feather;
wonted flotsam swept afar on stormy seas
Some things are better left unspoken,
     when silence speaks twice
            louder than words

But love lies with a whisper; tears of sombre sorrow
     won’t wash away the distance in your eyes
These are the days of a rising tide's breach
  when, I could walk deep into the ocean
     with no one else but memories
                to leave behind


                   
                   April 2018
... love lies with a whisper
        in abject silence,

        life's too short
        to drink bad wine

        change never asks
        for permission

        time takes time

        and by the way,
        I forgive you ...
Sometimes
in the mornin'
dawn awakens
unquiet heart
    swaddled
   in a dream ―

       and
      i hear
    a whisper
    from a voice,
gentle as a burning
      candle,
 sing to me softly
without words

... a stirring
moment ripples ―
an unholdable dream
    fleeting;
    lapping
wakeless silence;
... vanishing , . .
    swilled
by the daylight
   just beyond
   closed eyes
     awoken

    and now
 it's only me
      again




words in the wind
Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
indifferent winds ask not direction to course

Change asks not permission to become ―
like a blind-folded pilot looking for a place to land

At least dandelion wishes shoulder the weight of hope
and it makes no difference to the wind whose dream
it holds or seed it bears to  randomly cast away

The color of a mustard seed of faith
that moves mountains remains unknown ―
Freedom is as weightless as a hole in empty pocket
with nothing left to lose

Who decides who's a **** and what's a flower;
such definitive power beholds responsibility—
the most visible kind of strength,
that, used to oppress others,
is itself born of weakness.

On this island earth, in an ocean of emptiness,
a grain of sand and seaweed are washed ashore,
alone together, by the strength of a tuning tide

Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
spindrift flying on the wing of tide-change
as indifferent gales ask not direction to scatter

Terrestrial seeds lay unheeded hole up in impalpable silence,
embryos of yesterday dwelling in infrequent sighs
that enter lightly those unreckoned songs
the breathings of the heart fail to sing


              words in the wind
Notes: ****;  plant considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one that grows where it is not wanted and often grows or spreads fast or takes the place of desired plants.
Just
let
me
in
before
I
turn
the
lights
out.
Have you ever felt being inlove? I can't read your signs.
I drove down the road
cortisol suffocating my mind,
chewing angst flavoured gum,
singing my heart out,
desperate for a cure
to silence screaming butterflies
The day I met you
my pen threw up ink on the first word i wrote,
an ugly mark smeared
halfway down the thick, cream-colored page.
looking at that inkblot i heard
a reflection of myself,
identified as that smudge for
one reason or another,
maybe the fact that
my entire identity as a whole is
based off of others interpretations of me
or the fact that
i am always a mess;
when people look at my life from a birds-eye view
i am a figure only barely discernible
from the chaos
or maybe because
people only use me as a fun party trick,
like a horoscope, an arguing matter,
a novelty,
something that’s thrown away
and tossed aside
when its duty has already
been performed.
whatever the reason,
i think i am beautiful among the madness,
despite whatever it is you see
when you look at me.
inspired by a poem i heard at a reading a while ago. what object or thing best describes you?
I miss the voices inside my head
they all seem to be dead
you were always there
and it wasn't fair
at first you scared me
knocked me on my knees
then I learned to ignore
stop waging a war
we became one
and a new era begun
I heard voices for well over 3 years and now with my new medication they're gone I became so used to them that now in an odd way I miss them sometimes
It’s hell.
You’re living in hell.
Every day your hallucinations and delusions carry you futher and futher away from reality till one day you’re totally engulfed by them.
You watch yourself fall deeper and deeper and then you crash.
And it’s like you’ve never existed, nothing has ever existed.
You’ve become this empty vessel controlled by your demons.
What if the moths that crash
against the dark window pane;
wings pattering urgently pushing
trying to break through the glass,
are the dead souls in the tunnel
flying towards the light
of the supposed paradise
but they can’t get through.

Then they fly about outside
like dusty ghosts of the night.
Strange late night imaginings I had about the moths at the window.

6th April 2016
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