Unspoken Narratives

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A late glum afternoon takes place;
two stilled shadows occupy space,
seated on warmth-less corners,
sipping cold, stale coffee...it alters
not, a pricking, awkward quietness,
both alternate, share flitting glances.

Timid, uncertain thoughts
enslave, and sway to and fro,
none wants to be uttered
they block the throats,
trapped...nowhere to go.
into lumps, they've turned.

Two restless shadows inhale
and take time to exhale
unspoken narratives are set free,
all spewed in one long, deep sigh.
a love that's gone awry,
meanders...and takes flight,
suddenly, their verses they can't write
why can't they do things right?
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They're couplets, no longer spliced
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no cadence left, just estranged rhymes
hesitating...dangling on in their minds.
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A soured silence lingers,
bearing a scene in faded watercolors
their spirits, so shaded with pallor.
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sally b

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 11, 2019

Once I believed in all I was told,
Magic was real, its truth so bold.
Then came a voice, cold and near,
Santa Claus? The Tooth Fairy?
"That stuff... no way," it sneered in my ear.

What? Not true?
My mind, a tempest, not knowing what to do.
So what else is false, what else must I doubt?
Tell me, tell me, what’s the truth, all laid out?

“Well, all that’s hollow, empty and gray,
The rest? It’s all just smoke and play.”
Years passed, and I walked this land,
Where magic lay buried beneath the sand.

But then, a moment,
sharp and clear,
I saw the fool I had been, year after year.
It was time to shuffle the cards once more,
Yet still the fool, I remained at my core.

Chasing a butterfly, so swift, so bright,
But now I must grapple with a deeper fight,
The bitter truth, the lesson to grasp:
Vomiting out the apple, at last.