Where there is peace
there is silence.
Peace is simply the absence of noise.
The calmness in your soul is mistaken for loneliness.
Were there clouds upon the sea
For they would shelter me;
Were there string tied to my heart
For you to pull them to and fro;
Were there clarity in my mind
So that i May function half the time.
Were there peace in my soul
So I would not lust after you no more.
I’m not happy.
I want to cry and crumple.
But where is the point?
The day is the same, the air remains and the birds still screech.
So I stay silent.
No voice given to the devastation inside.
The weeds grow long and tall
Curling into the crevices.
The grass has died back , yellow and withered.
I turn my back because it breaks my heart to see the flowers trampled.
I haven’t taken care and I haven’t planted.
This land has died and I can’t bare to look.
So beautiful and wonderous to examine.
Yet filling in the cracks
with lies, platitudes and denial
never looks as good.
Ceramic bound in gold so intricate
yet this glue is brittle, faded and weak.
You knew you would end up here:
Winding ripping at your hair,
Eyes burning with tears
And hands clasping sand.
And A kiss
Submerged into icey waters
To be burnt in frost.
Lips alone, cold and barren