The lights are blinding.
Glaring shines that pierce
my blurring view

My eyes are blinding.
Missing obvious hints sprinkled
along clear-cut hues

My ears are ringing.
Blaring warnings whispered
through the noise of your silence.

My heart is blinding.
Drowning in raveled knots
of hope misconstrued

The lights are blinding.
Seeing nothing of value
within the trust I gave you

The first glance

Unsteady, unsure

One beautiful smile

One thoughtful flutter

Godspeed you butterfly!

She comes to my shoulder

And pins a rose on me

She leaves a note

She lifts the net

But wants no words to her song

She is from November

And I am from snow

We stand together

And everything is new

The grace of the divine speaks itself into existence
As we wash our clothes, mourn the past, and dine,
As we close our eyes and listen.

The truth finds its thereabouts
And reminds itself again
That nothing is meant to last—
The restless mind disrupts.

walking down the road
steps on crunchy leaves

looking up and down
humming to myself

feel the chilly breeze
smell the autumn air

taking it all in
each step, each leaf, each day
before you realise

another seasons passed,
and it’s already May

~
Then I was a coronagraph

Assuredly shielding the moon

Remembering the solar prominence

Putting those days to bed

Before airing grievances asterisk the universe

Rayleigh scattering overpowers me

Beaches sleep here

Mists inhabit this place

Today my mind has no light, is not part of the saros

I've called off the search, I know exactly where I am

I thought that I was caught by hope and dreams

Then realized I was only passing between them
~

Born by the spellbound of love and destruction, held like a pretense of heartstrings. Each crevice is traced to you, it is heavenly bestowed.
I was lovelorn, following the trails of this uncertain path engraved deeply that leads to you.

Your eyes were pits of abyss,
a gravity force of unknown,
a precipice before the great fall;
the moment that I found you is when I lose myself.

II. Abyss
And at the end, we'll all just be stories
burrowed in my skin, on each pale flesh is draped with what could have lingered. adorned with a chrysalis on my chest, it cages the hollows of the abyss. Then soon I'll be a fleeting moment you carry in your heart.

your trainers full of dirt
next to a Christmas decoration,
the woodpacker self-absorbed on a branch,
a pigeon floating on a current of mystery
I emptied of an I in the tenderness
of this fleeting moment