There are sounds
Which shatter
The blankest of thoughts
Transforming the shadows
Into the flowers that blossom
Morning fields
With fog so thick
Raindrops shatter
The complacent dirt
A cool breeze passes
Through the blades of grass
As your fingers
Brushed through my hair
On dark mornings
I lie awake
I rise
I sit by my window
And I wait
With great patience
Waiting
For there would be no other sound
Than your voice
To shatter the silence
Of my heart
The draft of the window
My mind on you
My eyes shatter into puddles
From trying to remember
To keep moving
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can
In the absence of your warmth
I am left to fend
I will wait
I will wait.
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 8:51 PM UTC
There are sounds
Which shatter
The blankest of thoughts
Transforming the shadows
Into the flowers that blossom
Morning fields
With fog so thick
Raindrops shatter
The complacent dirt
A cool breeze passes
Through the blades of grass
As your fingers
Brushed through my hair
On dark mornings
I lie awake
I rise
I sit by my window
And I wait
With great patience
Waiting
For there would be no other sound
Than your voice
To shatter the silence
Of my heart
The draft of the window
My mind on you
My eyes shatter into puddles
From trying to remember
To keep moving
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can
In the absence of your warmth
I am left to fend
I will wait
I will wait.