She was silent a mute, or so they thought.
            Butterflies would frequent her abode.
Dancing around a kaleidoscope of words fluttering
around her, she was like a lantern in the dark
           and they seemed to be drawn to her.

But where colour was imbued above,
below in unseen hollow spaces,
                    there were remnant glimmers.
Fragmentation's of what was but deathly hues
enveloped in the frigid cadaverous silence.

There was no flying from where they'd fell,
                like autumn's leaves falling off the
tree of life now they were obscurity.


No one knew that she was able to talk,
          but she was an empath,
   collecting the negativity of those
                                           around her.

Everyone thought she was in a mood.
                   She'd just look at them with sad eyes.
But she played it cool to everyone around her.

They're all happy but she whispered all
             the woes of every word expelled,
she tried to play it cool..

But when she told the butterflies what she knew they
            feel frigid, cold.
   They wanted her company, but they hid under her
               bed hiding the depression that fractured

there every movement.


She always tried to show positivity,
     but the shards cut her feet underneath her
                              bed.

But above was rainbows where beneath the
                  fragmentation of emotions screamed.

Ill never write with the constructs
of ink no matter its shading,
                as it has no edges, no fear or freedom.

Instead I use a scalpel to cut clean words
even though not evidentially visible
             all cuts have meaning.


But ever metaphorical stain takes
         time to show its meaning..


You may not see what I mean
         i write in a different manner to


                                    you.
            

But let time show the interpretation
                     that was there but never understood


till you looked beneath the incise significance
               even if not seen now,

                         just realise its there...

It comes in deep waves
first the warmth,
then the chill;
the salty taste that overpowers,
and the foam that seeks to fill.

Above beckons the alternating current
a body becomes stretched
only to sink,
and rise no more beneath the surface;
past the seaweed
among the fiery reef,
beware,
there lurks the end of still life.

Soon when muscles ache
when there is no fight left
with such heavy limbs that struggle;
heed my tepid words
when the dark clouds form,
it's much better to sink low,
and embrace the undertow.

For the well was deep,
      and the water
            endless.

     But I broke on the surface,
Never sinking beneath
The fractured
reflection of the abyss..

I felt like the titanic,
  we're perfectly sailing along
       on our sea of dreams..

But I never looked below
            the surface.
We were about to crash
              upon the other..

Cutting me beneath
                 the surface.
Not immediately visible.

But you slowly sank me,
       my life boats of emotion
empty as I had nothing left..
.
my heart serenaded as it sank
    beneath the waves..
And all that was left.

The wreckage of my dreams,
        As I sank beneath the
surface.. I'm never sailing free...

Deep and somber currents cold
Turn beneath a calming surface young
As darkness subsides above as below
No older have I grown

(4LINE)