I will stay quiet.
I will say no more.
Just there where you left me
Im still here, didnt go.
You breath in, breath out,
My breath is still held,
From that very moment,
Where I was left.
Sun wakes up, falls asleep,
Do you think it misses the moon?
The moment when they meet I will move on,
The moment Sun sees the Moon I will speak, I will respond.
I stay still, keep quiet,
The words are taken away from my lips,
From the moment you left,
The moment your promises were no longer kept.
I stay still, mouth is shut,
Words are taken by the Moon,
It keeps them to speak with the Sun,
When they speak, listen,
They have eternity to talk over,
Spring comes autumn goes,
Decades pass near me,
I still stay still, can you see me?
At the same place same last breath you let me take, before you left.
Day by day, night by night,
I am still there, remaining quiet.
Like waterfall the words remain unspoken kept in a well.
I will remain quiet, till we speak again, from the moment where I didnt breath out.
Wait few hundred years more, till every Star will shine the last words
Till every leaf will whisper you
Every bird will tweet,
Just wait a millennium more,
I will still be there, where you left me.
With broken promises, confused and abandoned, I will remain quiet till the day we speak, the day you will bring me to life again.
Till then. I will stay quiet I will say no more.

Change seems inevitable.
Old sentences carry
different purposes.
Mold forms in old coffee cups
like modern paintings.
Tubas boom like thunderstorms.
Your age appears first
on the back of your hands.
A clock talks by ticking
or not at all.
The knot is not the rope.
Poets write only white lines.
Medications are altered.
The brain forgets itself.
Impatience scribbles nonsense.
We become heavier,
weighted and slower.
Playing the Sitar
becomes easy as whistling.
Tamed ostriches preen
in toy cowboy hats.
Lint tells secrets of navels.
Words float in bubbles.
The wicked become tender.
Voices ebb and echo
devoid of throats and tongues.
Speech nailed to walls
becomes the new poetry.
We burn the news
to warm ourselves.
Each dawn forms
a unique conclusion.
A moth destroys Chicago.
Vandalism is elevated
to curated folk art.
How can I be sure
these syllables are real
when everything changes
except the desire for coffee?
Please don't wake me up.
I want to remember this dream.

   ~mce

She starred with Bogart, Douglas, and Victor Mature.
The Smokey voiced blonde whose motives weren’t all pure,
Lisabeth Scott was the last of her line;
Femme Fatales of film Noir, you know her kind.
In the forties and fifties she was in her prime.
She was the subject of scandal of a ****** nature
When the tabloids discovered that no man would date her.
Like Garbo and Stanwyck, stars in their own stead
Lisabeth preferred a brunette in her bed.
For her men had their uses, Men had their places
But she found herself drawn to soft feminine faces.

'goodbye'
is such a hard
concept
to grasp

people wonder why im so emotionless
but they don't know that when you left me
you took everything of mine

i’ll tell you a dream i had once i was away up in the sky Blue,everything:
a bar the bar was made of brass hanging from strings (or)someThing i was
lying on the bar it was cOOl i didn’t have anything on and I was hot all
Hot and the bar was

   COOl
O My lover,

                there’s just room for me in You
my stomach goes into your Little Stomach My legs are in your legs Your
arms
      under me around; my head fits(my head)in your Brain—my,head’s
big
she(said laughing
                        )with your head.all big