Still here,
beating.

I stand over the girl from my past.

My shadow is a mass, but I am Liberty,
in her stance,
in her strength,
in the sunlight.

Twice struck,
second one has stuck
in deep,
enough to blur the world around me-
around him.

Never mind the darker hours
 (they aren’t important);
what is crucial, is the breath in my lungs.

The  dormancy of my linguistics,
          doesn't mean  I'm ignorant.

But I jest at the wastefulness
                                  of breath.

To expel the fortitude of such.

    Anger is to give me weakness
           of character, and you undue
                                        strength.

I may seem like the sheep,
                   but do not take my

muteness, as a respite of no validation.

For one is most aware when all is smothered
                      in contemplation.

And then you are like a crumpled leaf,
                    silent and calm....

I didn't utter a word, I just walked away.
            letting you take in the view
of me not caring that you were in my shadow.

Not uttering  your worth, but I showed you
                that silence can knock down the
                                              strongest word.

listen to the sounds
the sound of my breath
the sound of my heart
the sound of my whispers
watch the world
as it slowly spins
the fireflies in the dark
the moon with her eyes closed
the shadows dancing

Maybe your tongue could be my own
Maybe your teeth are the mirror I’ve been fearing this whole time
Maybe your mouth is where I want to hide forever
Or maybe I want to be trapped within your mind

Maybe I want to see you from the inside
Not hearing what you have to say
But really see you from the inside
In a Jonah sort of way

Maybe I want mine to be your body
Incessant movement where one cannot tell
Where you begin and where I end

Maybe I don’t want it to ever end
Maybe it scares me if it never ends
Will it never end? Or more importantly, will it even start?

How lovely the clouds look
From the ground below
Painting the world in darkness
Such a beauty to behold.

It is so weird
How this is my life
How I am alive in all this
And get to change my fate

But death will come
And somehow curiosity
Is in my skin
Of what happens
After my heart stops beating

Caught your long lost locks,
blonde through the silver fog,
flitting away or
could it have been toward?

Once, I would have thought
it's just a dream and not
real, warm flesh to flesh,
volcanic breath to breath.

Best not waste a good thing
in the face of your favorite catch.
A master of their craft
can't manipulate the longing pain.