Today is cloudy with a slight breeze, while it should be sunny
It seems to be cloudy because the sky is left without words to describe the gray

The air even tastes different today
And the feeling in the air brings apon a case of nostalgia
a feeling that becomes of sorrow
Just like memories

Memories
Why I cherish the love of memories, but they do not of me
Memories have a colorful and colorless beauty to them
Paradox some would say
The color is often found in the rececpicrol of good will, but eventually the nuance of them becomes hazey and dreadful to bare
Memories--
I could laugh--
the weather today is something like you.

She's a leaping high five
with her feet planted firmly
on the ground

She is a crescendo of sound
and emotion . Puts her finger to her lips and shushes me .

She bathes in moonbeams while
tantalizing stars knowing
their touch is too far

She hides behind the clouds when
the sun burns . Capturing the rays and
hiding  them in kelidoscopic jewels she wears around her ankles so she can see
where she walks on moonless nights

She teaches fairies to dance in rings
and in return becomes the dance instead

She's the Cheshire's smile that
disappears on the wings of a firefly

I could not sleep
imagining it must be raining
There is darkness inside these clouds

I have come to know this feeling
this obscured emptiness
All night there is nothing
but my breathing
and there is a nebulous death
that happens between breaths

The sky bends around me
touches the trees
and knifes its way between the branches

I stand in the cold air
as a child stands in winter’s whisper
snow angels freshly painted
and pinned to the ground

It seems that there is still
something
that I need to say
to support this melancholy
to bear witness to the sorrow
the world owns

Could this darkness be a god
that takes me to the other side
where what is left is
invisible
Tonight the moon is unseen
by its own absence

How many more thoughts
must I make
to understand the entire world
to understand the joy of some
the grief of others

-------------------------------------------

from my fourth book: 'The Translator'
(Transcendent Zero Press, 2015)

©dah / TZP 2015
all rights reserved

"Invisible" was first published in
'Acumen Journal' (U.K.)

http://www.amazon.com/Translator-Dah-Helmer/dp/0692415254/ref=sr11?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1437074680&sr;=1-1&keywords;=the+translator+%2F+dah

Have you ever felt air suffocating you? How can something you need to live be killing you?
Maybe because the breaths aren't careless, long, beautiful and free
But short, restricted and sloppy
It feels like I'm choking,
especially on my words
How do you explain depression?
Unbearable sadness and clogged throats
Not wanting to get out of bed and either staring at a clock watching time move both quickly but not quick enough
or it's staring at the indents or popcorn ceiling of your haunted house pretending they're stars
It's people telling you to just be happy
Don't you think I would've done that by now?
It's constant dragging of feet and weighed down shoulders and exasperated sighs filled with air I can't swallow for the life of me
They're filled with everything I want to say and nothing too
Indecisveness plays such a factor into this and is the pinacle of why I cannot put into words why the air is choking me
Am I worthy to breathe you?
Were you made for me? Or was I the lousy experiment that is ruining you?
I don't believe in God anymore now that I'm less optimistic
Why would God punish me for breathing when God was the one who made the air?
Sometimes I don't even want to speak
It's kind of all over the place
like my thoughts
but like I was saying,
I am drowning in air
and that's the best I can
explain it
Every breath feels like a burden
and I'm waiting for the
last sorrowed exhale

I’m a riddle in nine syllables,
A building with so many levels,
With two big windows, hiding secrets.
Adequate, presentable outside,
Labyrinthine, ramshackle inside.
Everyone becomes disillusioned.
Who’ll fix this piece of architecture?
Who will tend it, patch it up, love it?
Maybe someday, someone will. Who knows?

Walking in archways 
What felt like worlds between us
High above my tower I see you 
As your face stays determined not to crack 
They said I lost my muse 
But she's in every crease upon my bed 
Not able to wash the memory with a splash of soap and water 
I thought about throwing it to the streets 
Let the homeless make fortune over our mistakes
Cradled up in the nook you used to sleep 
Sleep? 
What lies 
For no moisture was lost 
No teeth mark not tear 
Because I failed you 
And all of the coloured flags
I couldn't help but call your name
In the nickname only I used 
Ignoring then sudden realisation 
Never looking back 
Head locked like a brace 
While hidden hands forced my face to your seat.
Even after you left
My eyes lingered over what used to be. 
She ran 
Out in to the night 
As I sat among the nightmare
Excusing death in a movie 
For why tear drops fleeted 
Down my cheek
She escapes 
Leaving quickly out the door
Couldn’t leave it up to chance
She leaves as if she couldn't stand to watch the credits role
But I know her 
Spent what felt like days watching names roll on screen 
While we meshed bundled
and blissed.