Pause
April 29th, 2015
There is a pause between the
scratching of metal pen tips as they traverse these
weathered pages and leave
rivulets of stained memories,
and between the splattering of muddled thoughts and
mangled consciousness in these bruised lines.
You once lived in that unknown space,
beneath the shattered similes and
the inhale between spoken verses.
You resided in the eves between my
corroded ribs and in the
tracts separating my ink-washed hands.
You were once the ghost guiding my grim pen,
tendrils of daffodil-kisses and
illuminated revelries seeping into the
gliding ink.
We were two broken chips of shattered equilibrium,
and I let you shape how I saw this world,
never noticing how
distorted and crooked my eyesight was becoming.
You left me believing that I only need you to be happy,
that maybe you were the only one capable of loving me
and my crackling exterior.
But now you are the skeletons hiding in my shaded closet
and the smeared photographs that once decorated my
blue and green walls.
We were two flickering flames who
consumed any sense of sanity that we had retained.
April 29th, 2015
There is a pause between the
scratching of metal pen tips as they traverse these
weathered pages and leave
rivulets of stained memories,
and between the splattering of muddled thoughts and
mangled consciousness in these bruised lines.
You once lived in that unknown space,
beneath the shattered similes and
the inhale between spoken verses.
You resided in the eves between my
corroded ribs and in the
tracts separating my ink-washed hands.
You were once the ghost guiding my grim pen,
tendrils of daffodil-kisses and
illuminated revelries seeping into the
gliding ink.
We were two broken chips of shattered equilibrium,
and I let you shape how I saw this world,
never noticing how
distorted and crooked my eyesight was becoming.
You left me believing that I only need you to be happy,
that maybe you were the only one capable of loving me
and my crackling exterior.
But now you are the skeletons hiding in my shaded closet
and the smeared photographs that once decorated my
blue and green walls.
We were two flickering flames who
consumed any sense of sanity that we had retained.