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Micah Nov 2020
The lilt of silence
exists within a room
a ceiling high and warm
the sound is rounded
as it lays longingly on the window sill
where the dust settles and the day joins in
it is dull and worn like soft leather
And when crammed into a closet
arms length and abrupt
it falls short of being anything more than
a breath

But when silence is allowed to spread
over gentle bodies
and soak deep into the wood
life feels timeless and free

in the lilt of silence
Micah Sep 2020
why do i build my houses out of leaves
each house for each Name

i stand them up, fingers coaxing them, willing them to stay
knowing full well that even the sunlight weighs too heavy

but i stack one on top of the other, a skyscraper of myself
hoping it'll be different this time as it sways, a sickening motion

a drop of rain causes the rooves to collapse as i struggle to keep so many of them up with my palms, using my spine load-bearing

they are stable, my fingers braced against the walls, my feet digging into the mud, my back arched and twisted, and i tell myself it's worth it

the large storm finally grays the skies and my houses are rustling at the pressure and i rearrange it all to cover them, godless prayers

lightning crackles and burns through the clouds to impact the ground
and i can't stop it

my houses begin to flutter apart like frightened birds as i try to grasp at them with damaged hands but i miss

a flash of bright white, the sun devouring the earth, and a splitting snap of wood and facade

a tree motions towards me and my pile of scattered leaves
but the mud is to my knees and my hands are clambering at fistfuls and my eyes are wide as it gets closer

And I find out nothing you said ever meant anything at all.
Micah Jun 2020
I just
want to say

Seven years
and it all boils down to this

no more talking
except for scheduled days

"keep your life to yourself"
because I'm done with you

and "it's not her, it's me"


Except I know
we both know
you're lying

and you are weak
for folding

I guess I should have known
that when you're the sun
my eyes would be blinded by you

I didn't feel the heat until the end

and now



I didn't think it would be

on purpose

and now here I am

the wound on my back, seeping

And I am burnt

The End.
Burnt. The End. Part 2
Micah May 2020
I could watch the trees
every waking hour
But in the evening
when the smell of lilacs drift around me
When the spring air kisses
one if the many green fingers of an oak
And the light,  filtered and plush, lingers
Begging to stay
Just a few more moments
is my favorite
I am moved
by these Last Moments
because soon the light will be gone
and the dark will fill every curve and every edge
because it will never be the same way
Micah Apr 2020
I want to fall into someone's arms
it doesn't have to be love
anymore than it has to be an explosion of glinting stars
Just unfiltered, momentary affection
like sunshine breaking through a storm
Micah Apr 2020
why do you leave me on
the very e
teetering on nothing
but maybes and daydreams
silence and conversation
why isn't it just a yes or no
what do you want from me
aside from company
in the hours where you're alone
and lonely
a stand in for your boredom
Micah Dec 2019
The snowflakes
they taught me
that something so
blindingly soft
can set delicate skin alight
Causing scorched red fingertips
I set my hands on fire as I bury them
A white inferno
Because memories
these memories
are screaming at me
A cauldron of tender moments and anguished faces and plans that have yet to be fulfilled, and never will be, and brusing and dying dreams and brilliant words laced with tired tones
And I wish I could burn them, the memories, like photographs
In a blaze, they'd all disappear
nothing but smoke, a warm whisper, of something forgotten
But the snowflakes
they taught me
the pain is only present
when I stick my hands in too deep
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