like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you came to me
gently,
with the soothing voice
of a sweaty spring
thank you, old friend
for being able to be
dark enough to see
the hidden light
in me

i will not go into the times we shared
asphyxia and summer air
juxtaposed to form
an inseparable pair

who am I, old friend
when the ship´s horn blares
if you made me who I am
(if you made me scarce)

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you left me
softly, without
any warning of
the lack of color
(there would be)
without your splendor

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.

I never saw a man who looked
with such a wistful eye
upon that little tent of blue
which prisoners called the sky,
and at every drifting cloud that went
with sails of sliver by.

I walked, with other souls in pain,
within another ring,
and was wondering if the man had done
a great or a little thing,
when a voice behind me said,
"The man's got to swing"

For he did not wear scarlet
nor did he speak of it,
for blood and wine were red
and so was the color on his bed.

He looked upon the garish day
with such a wistful eye;
the man had killed the thing he loved,
and so he had to die.

The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.

i know the devil
isn’t the one to lead us all into Hell
because there’s no chance
he’s that good
at hiding behind crystal blue eyes.

if you told me seven months ago
that those blue eyes
would lead me here,
i would’ve thrown my head and laughed.

yet
here i am.
and there you are.
in your hand,
my heart.

i’d never thought
i’d be one to beg,
but then again i never thought
i could be this foolish.

my words ricochet off the walls
each with as much power as a bullet
yet they never seem to hit you,
and only come back to hurt me.

as you look me straight in the eyes,
clouded over from..something..
a glance at your hand
leaves me grasping at my chest.

the pain seems to only intensify
until i look down
and see
that my heart is resting in my own hand..
and i’m crushing it myself.

because this entire time,
i’ve been staring in a mirror,
imagining you there,
all the things we could have been
and should have done.

but in the end,
you disappeared and lied,
and i had to realize
that in all of this,
i’m only hurting myself.

sometimes i visit a place
where the fire always burns,
and the sun never fades.

a world
where my words
cut invisible scars
that only bleed when no one's looking.

a land
with mile-wide canyons
that shelter a dark abyss,
one which can curl its smoky whispers
and turn any heart against its soul.

a locale
with double-edged mirrors
that hold truths too harsh
for the ordinary beauty of reality.

sometimes i visit a place
fueled by the flames
and stretched wide with darkness,
where no one can hide
from that ugly inside.