A message so discrete.
It came and went.
a game of pretend.
What of the intention?
To seep into a random dream.
Grabbing hold of fragility.
Pulling it by the feet.
‘I miss you.’
Only seems slight.
Upon a midnight scene.
Caught off my guard.
It has been sometime, since witnessing.
What you stand for.
But then again.
It has been sometime since you darkened my door.
I tucked your likeness away in a pillow so soft.
I am only aware of your dredging up my nighttime thoughts…
The day after…
When life is a bit off.
A struggle lost within the silence.
All these worn walls.
My breathing short and small.
Gated rooms await the fall.
seems impractical and obscene.
the aura that surrounds me,
Gifts given from characters in dark dreams.
as they once seemed.
There are some who say,
‘To hold silence is to have hands of gold.
To hold it just a prophecy,’
they have not listened for what stillness is not.
I have heard the quiet when it is not wanted.
In quickness of the fallen snow.
Under limbs where shine is not bestowed.
In the calm of madness…
When no one is home.
I am not a lone wolf,
though, I profess to be.
Broken and barren?
Only when the warmth will not lay down next to me.
With the morning’s drawn out,
as if to say,
‘your winter has overcome the Lilac’s of May.’
This, this, is my… daunting midday,
covering splendor like smoldering sentences of words we did not say..
And, though it has been only a minuscule twilight,
that has separated us,
darkness has absconded with trust.
I have tried to go home for the pretension.
Looking to relieve the tension.
between my heart, my soul and you, lay the secrets I dare not mention.
Among the granite living,
feelings of resentment.
A side of myself that is not meant for public consumption.
Always under the guise of deliberate outward attention.
These past few hours,
have led me to believe,
I cannot forget all my cares without, the fix of your stare…
seeing you again…
here and there.