This world is fragile.
Those hands aren't worthy.
Those words aren't just and
These actions don't suit.

Take it to the line.

You don't see the damage you do.
Your destruction continues to spread like the plague,
Burning our hopes and
Shaking our souls.

*Ouch

Jump.
     Well, no, actually.
            I don't want to jump.
I want to leap
and skip
and dance into a new sunrise.

It's time to turn off the light
and close the door,
Because it's really getting dark in here.

Close your mouth,
mute the babel,
bare your ears.
****** I'm speaking to you.
Not with my mouth,
with my heart
and my soul
not my brain.

These aren't feathered words.
This is my distress.

I'm sorry,
I'm going to turn off the light,
  close the door
    and dance.

please—
don’t worry;
about the feelings you cannot quite muster
or the actions you cannot quite accomplish—
for simply having you here
would suffice.

[for it is not always the ocean
or the waves themselves that bring peace,
indeed—
sometimes, simply a scent of sea air
can be enough
to put one at ease.]

and do not ask
why I wait at the window,
on this blustery winter night,
candles flickering in the den,
flames snapping in the fireplace,
pots sizzling on the stove—

instead,
inquire as to how long I will wait
until you sweep in with snow sleeping on your eyelashes,
the zephyr of the west still singing in your ears,
an exhausted smile of bruised hope dancing with your dimpled cheeks—
for yes,
oh yes,
I am still here,
waiting.

please, do not worry,
for the night is young,
the stove will keep warm,
and if I sleep, I will wake at the door—
for I will greet you with blankets wrapped around my shoulders
in which to bring you warmth,
and my toes will stretch to allow me to hold you closer,
but my words will truly bring you in from the cold:
have peace, for all is well, my love.
all is well with our souls.

[and the snowflakes will melt into tears of joy.]

It's like this I've been
trying just to hold your name
in my hands
for a minute.

Before they were close,
(and you were closed),
I soared with dreams of clouds.
I pulled them to me,
they passed me by and brewed into grey.
A hurricane crashed against another shore.

Even the slightest sunshine breeds confusion, in places like this
drizzles of complaints, dazzled me white,
you drug me down. I cried floods about
rivers soaking rainbows through the streets somewhere else.

It doesn't make sense, this other-world where
the sky throws tantrums and people hole in
and life goes on
and people like you don't communicate,
don't ask about the sky and its sorrows and the wandering stars,
don't ask about the gray and brisk and colors,
you of all people I thought appreciated, at least, the contrast.

Well here's a contrast that you're obviously oblivious to:
silence.
The sirens have stopped.
The lights will rise with the sun while a city sleeps,
walls on the ground. Switched perspective.
Broken glass...
remembers sand and the origins of perplexion.
I am a grain of sand, softened to sweet simplicity,
flowing through rivers and settling in a new home.
Alone,
and alive.