ryn 1d
With hidden hands,
the curtain clung to the wall
and cascaded like a waterfall
down to the floor.

Smothering the window
and draping an old side table,
rendering it derelict
- a lifeless silhouette.

Quarter way down from the ceiling,
the curtain parted just a sliver.
Allowing a lone ray to visit between
ambling clouds.

•••

One on the outside can’t fully see
the darkened workings
of a confined mind.

I, on the inside...
Can’t see past the cloth
fastened stubborn
over my weary eyes.
ryn Jul 28
As I laid my head,
anticipating the arrival
of a long day’s sleep...

I heard the beating of my heart -
faint but clear - marking the quiet
that loomed before rest.

I traced each beat...
Counted them, knowing that
soon would come
and I’d be in slumber deep.

I remembered another whose beats matched those of mine -
I finally let go, and got lost
in my cosy nighttime nest.
ryn Jul 24
To write for you...

I’d have to dive into an emotional well
and drown only to be revived
by the subtle tendrils of the words
you once swore.

Nuances of the song we used to sing - caressing my limbs, cradling my neck
and whispering...
Retracing their mark.

Reigniting the flickerless...
Steadfast flame that burned ever before.

As if hoisted by ethereal wings,
I’d be reborn with the ink...
This ink - black and stark.
ryn Jul 24
Capture the night
in one deep breath.

Allow the eyes to map
what swells in the heart.

Capture life...
Be wary not of thorns that prick.

Allow the love to bridge the gap,
even when apart.
ryn Jul 19
It was a night...
That bore so little words
yet was worth so many.

A night when the eyes
spoke more than the mouth.

Fueled by a feeling
that spilled beyond
the consciousness of mind.

A rapid drumming
that deafened the ears -
the undoing of a hopeful heart.
ryn Jul 18
And therefore it lays
unforgiving and unslaked
like a thirst unquenched
ryn Jul 15
There’s no one...
So I spoke as if a secret
into the wind.

I told it,

“You may blow your skeptic tune.
Your quiet whistles of doubt.”

“Exhale if you must,
upon the countenance of her face.
Run your invisible fingers
through her hair...
Taste her lips like you would
the surface of the lake in the sun-shy morns.”

“Then you would dispel all disbelief.
You would take these words I say,
and know why confide in you.
You would know why I had fallen.
And you would know why
you would then be my messenger...

“So that you could whistle the song
I could never sing.
You could caress her face
when my fingers could not.
You could kiss and fill her lungs
with all that she needs when I am gone.”
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