there’s an abstraction outside my window
formed out of the darkness and dissonance
an aggregation of longing pulled from my soul.
my eyes take in everything outside the window:
the ugliness of the world
the jagged darknesses
the aloneness
the frustration at being alive
truths laid bare by hunger’s great fist.
I watch myself drift beyond the heavy laces of curtains shrouding my window.
from afar I see the tears smear wet on pale cheeks
see but cannot feel the heart that beats blood
the words that fall like tattered paper as I
call your name.
how was it that darkness came to be conceived in such a way
drifting and oozing black over everything?
every thought that attempts to escape like stars from my throat
is ever compressed back inside
entangled
between my very veins
tighter, tighter
until it suffocates within the cold aloneness of my chest...
all I wanted was a pair of eyes to raise me above
the night’s discord
light my bones with their penetrating glance
above all, the bitter brilliance of an
open mouth.
how is it that such a thing
can provide such sweet, undying warmth
but still a pain keen as knives to the heart
the taste of the salty stickiness of my blood
as it trickles a river down my open throat?
but what else is love but an
opening -
a vulnerability that can give rise to all greatness and happiness
and then in a sheer moment
turns a living thing into a carcass
a hole of all that was once bright and true?
and the loneliness that comes from being out of love:
it is enough to fill the heart with a greed for an ultimate darkness
or for more hopeful hearts a longing for eternity.
I guess the beauty is what distracts me so
undoes all previous notions until everything known or thought to have been known
become dust
perhaps that is why I am so unmoved by the darkness’s truth.
I am content and discontent
forever hovering between the lines of imbalance -
shall I go to you where you huddle beneath the heavy coverlet?
only your eyes visible
inviting me to join you
and form a picture so reminiscent of
Heaven
that I do not want for the real thing at all?
this is when my heart stops grappling with such questions
and in turn grapples with the sweet breath of your mouth
the warmth of the gentle slope of your bare skin as it intersects my own
whiteness and goldenness circulating together as one in the dwindling half-light.
the quiet breaths taken in the dark
take wing in a thousand different symphonies
myriads of musical notes drawn from every escaped breath
the quick palpitations
of our beating hearts -
my soul could never leave this place.
and still the night glimmers onwards
its silent undoing.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 6:09 AM UTC
there’s an abstraction outside my window
formed out of the darkness and dissonance
an aggregation of longing pulled from my soul.
my eyes take in everything outside the window:
the ugliness of the world
the jagged darknesses
the aloneness
the frustration at being alive
truths laid bare by hunger’s great fist.
I watch myself drift beyond the heavy laces of curtains shrouding my window.
from afar I see the tears smear wet on pale cheeks
see but cannot feel the heart that beats blood
the words that fall like tattered paper as I
call your name.
how was it that darkness came to be conceived in such a way
drifting and oozing black over everything?
every thought that attempts to escape like stars from my throat
is ever compressed back inside
entangled
between my very veins
tighter, tighter
until it suffocates within the cold aloneness of my chest...
all I wanted was a pair of eyes to raise me above
the night’s discord
light my bones with their penetrating glance
above all, the bitter brilliance of an
open mouth.
how is it that such a thing
can provide such sweet, undying warmth
but still a pain keen as knives to the heart
the taste of the salty stickiness of my blood
as it trickles a river down my open throat?
but what else is love but an
opening -
a vulnerability that can give rise to all greatness and happiness
and then in a sheer moment
turns a living thing into a carcass
a hole of all that was once bright and true?
and the loneliness that comes from being out of love:
it is enough to fill the heart with a greed for an ultimate darkness
or for more hopeful hearts a longing for eternity.
I guess the beauty is what distracts me so
undoes all previous notions until everything known or thought to have been known
become dust
perhaps that is why I am so unmoved by the darkness’s truth.
I am content and discontent
forever hovering between the lines of imbalance -
shall I go to you where you huddle beneath the heavy coverlet?
only your eyes visible
inviting me to join you
and form a picture so reminiscent of
Heaven
that I do not want for the real thing at all?
this is when my heart stops grappling with such questions
and in turn grapples with the sweet breath of your mouth
the warmth of the gentle slope of your bare skin as it intersects my own
whiteness and goldenness circulating together as one in the dwindling half-light.
the quiet breaths taken in the dark
take wing in a thousand different symphonies
myriads of musical notes drawn from every escaped breath
the quick palpitations
of our beating hearts -
my soul could never leave this place.
and still the night glimmers onwards
its silent undoing.