Is this how love is smothered?
I am misunderstood
We go at war with each other
Will we lose fight for good?
Again hear bombs exploding
And again smoke fills air
Emotions been eroding
Battle isn't fair
How many times have surrendered
Slipping away from the past
Pulling from the image rendered
Drifting from touch too fast
Everyone moving forward
Can't find strength to lift my feet
Where I am stay not speaking a word
We make-up
Incomplete
Never afraid to say how you feel
You don't like it reinvent
Feelings are not meant to be sealed
Here if you need to vent
Energy gathered great and wide
Horizon bright where we stand
The new storm starts brewing inside
Working it's way through the land
Deep colors found above in the vast sky
Shades compressed into one
Emanating a beam from up high
Outlines traced with sun
Life came warming bodies slow
Electricity poured through our veins
Muscles rested to properly grow
Took eons just for force to regain
And heart discovered independence
Still yearned for what we had before
Longing I felt restless and tense
You didn't need me anymore

Mother knows best,

but I've put
this ink
on my skin as
a reminder
that I am
not the
child who
died in that
House.
I was forced
to build a
place where
I belong,
and now that
I've Finally
created a place...

you want me back.

But I am
not the
child who
died in that
house.
I am a
woman
now,

Mother.

The air lays still and lifeless giving no leaf a need to care,
No sound of passing traffic or kids laughter in the air.
Everywhere seems silent as if the world has lost its voice,
Even birds seem silent, bereft of song as if without a choice.

So eerie and pervasive is the silence right there outside my door,
Shouting aloud in its hush change to all things that went before.
Long periods of empty air, devoid of usual sounds I once ignored.
Leaving silence etched in mind where fear has seared and scored.

It moves things,
pulls them back
with only the slightest change.
All it takes, "is" to "was",
to curve the timeline,
subtly, but definitively,
turning great things,
great people,
to memories.

I
cannot
compose myself
anymore