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Eli Juniper Mar 2020
The view from the highest point of the bridge depicts a clutch of melancholy; it stretches into the mind as a melody. Like a blue cobalt mirror, tainted with dead stars, the horizon is luring me into the abysses of softness. I blow on my pains in its drafts. Air begins to be music, when it sings to my heart. I become this music; the tune I try to **** out of my cold breath, through these silly instruments. Never using my own voice. The keys of the piano are seemingly breaking this river, quietly; In haste followed by a cello which, as a silk voice, caresses my skin of woe. Both share the confusion and tune with one another into my round tears.
I dance, proud, on the notes of suffering, dragging on the sidewalk these astonished, irrelevant voices. No, I won't be careful…no, I'm not suicidal…I don't want to go down.
I would like to turn around and notice those absurd questions asked to me. But I know that when I start shouting, no one will be behind my scary and scared back. I will gaze upon the absence behind me. I will be tempted to make this starting gesture, the conductor's sign to begin: I will close my fists and fall into the masses. In a drumroll of applause.
Suddenly, the silence of my loneliness reached my heart, and as I behold this cobalt blue shower, I climbed down. Thinking, feeling, in me, "Not today".
Eli Juniper Mar 2020
Puzzles...
They hamper me, as I walk, lingering, through this maze of mine. Shining Shrines of Silver, metaphors in anchors. They obstruct my resilience, shadows of reluctance.
They dim my light, so bright to begin with. They kindle my kindness in a gentleness, while they consume my rage. They are my griefs, they are my ghosts, they are hateful and fruitful and faithful. If I were to summon them in my dreams, they would already be there...
For I reckon that they seek and track my inmost fears and hopes. Delights and aches. Lost, am I? Yes. I believe so.
For I am in a room of puzzles once more.
Shall I follow the maze and remain, sore?

— The End —