Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.

lights flicker
in the distance
far far below

I’m here
looking down on it all
wrapped in a blanket
a book lies next to me
pages flipping themselves
in the cool summer breeze
inside are the sounds of life
outside are the sounds
of the questioning
the air is filled
with random notes
fluttering around me
like guardian angels
I know why they’re here

darkness
sat down
next to me
to keep me company
we look at the flickering lights
in the distance
he tells me
you’d do fine down there
if you wanted to
be a light
surrounded by light
but then he shifts his gaze
the moonlight
dancing through his being
but you’d do great
up there
be a light
where no one has dared to be
and with that
he left

I should be out of tears by now
have cultivated the strength of a warrior

I wish I knew why I keep waking up
in the morning
                           (despite the night)

again, again, again

So proud of its  Shape.
The Color and the Make.
Except for the Drain.  

Hidden and Blocked.  
And was so glad.
Not realising that Water
would soon fill up.

Full and Heavy
It overflowed
Cracks all over
It Finally Broke.

“Greater than the acquisition of poetry I cannot envisage,
Poetry enters ones heart and soul brings life to one’s melancholy,
It can come into your life leaving you with a promise of future,  
So that one will be clutched to affiance of poetic peroration
I am now that which is clutched to such an affiance,
As that of a nest in the tree clenched to sapling twigs,
And so I shall vow to accept this affiance for all perpetuity”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 1/29/2018 #154 Posted HP