Don’t ask me why,
because,
I don’t know.

But you came to me,
like a sorceress.

Who enchanted my soul,
with her magic.

A magnetism drew us together,
a red thread intertwined us.

Souls that knew each other from another life,
recognizing themselves in a single gaze.

Don’t ask me why,
because there is no why.

Only the universe
willed it so.

Communication, chemistry,
caresses, tenderness,
and unrestrained love—

the kind you make,
and the kind you feel in your heart.

I am a hanging thread, hanging onto life,
in this delicate fabric of existence; concealed in a shirt.
The fibres strain, so be gentle, for a harsh tug may
unravel my very depth.

Sewn together by dreams, woven with the strands
of hope, my soft cotton faith absorbs the anguish
that surrounds me.

I am a hanging thread, hanging on for dear life –
with a singular, poignant message to impart:

Hang in there!

The moon did me a favor today

It didn't drag me down.

It made me look up.

Where else is future found?

Besides our
Hearts and Minds.

In the sky where you will find Birds.

And wings
With golden strings

Threading

An imperfect map.

I'm still looking up.

She used to be alive
Not hanging on by a thread
Not worrying if she’d survive
She was living life instead
Then the lights went out
And the fears began to shout
And she sat in the dark with no desire to face another day
Out of place, out of grace
She retraced all the ways she had failed
Then she thought why waste another day?
There’s nothing left to say
Nothing left but today
Plans already underway
But there must be a reason to stay

Laying back in the tall grass
in the place I was born.
The shape my body makes
is a heavy sadness.
I sigh as if it made
the weight leave my body.

The sky is always bluer in the mountains,
that’s something to be learned with age.
To be ten years old and to hear that
childhood is archetypically
the best years of your life.
To be ten years old and to not realize
the freedom there is in that.

As if clouds could hear thoughts,
they cover the sky from time to time
just so I forget about my narcissistic thinking.

I close my eyes.
The grass feels like a sea of threads.
I’m in a constant state of waiting
for the needles to ***** me.
I am certain they will arrive,
but I do not move.
Laying on the ground
will never keep me grounded.

Laying back in the tall grass
I feel smaller.
I have failed, I have thrived.
The answers to my questions hover over this field
but the wind is too quick to pull them away
and I know where they are.
But the hard ground
is starting to feel comfortable now.

The desert's longing for the rain
Is longing for drops of life
Longing that will continue to be awaited
Dreams that I have never achieved
Time that never come back
And all the opportunities I've missed

Forgive me
Because I'm late
And for my negligence, I missed you
Forever, this love is always awake
But the desire to have you has vanished
A red thread of my fate has been severed