If her words are to be cut from her tongue, if her silence is to be cut from her soul, she has only her ink. The solace of her page, the sombre flow of thoughts carved into yesterday’s canvas. The freedom of poetic expression…said here, said there, the effect is the same. The cause falls on blind eyes, a defensive soul guarding against… The only one he needs not. For those words silenced in reprimand wanted not to talk of command, demand or dictating, just love. A silence that wished not to hurt, offend or harm found an unwanted battle ground of misunderstanding and trust questioned on the balance beam of expectations, emotions, a kaleidoscopic rainbow of scars itching to rip open, and she is not trusted to itch them, she is not trusted to express the way they scratch, they bleed, perhaps such a thing is for children, for the weak..for they are the adults. Then she stands in all her glory for she holds no shame in her weakness. Her silence sought only his love, the tender touch of his words the reassuring tone of primal need on carnals vice. His defence, guarded, angered.. the unnescasary ripples of his own scars, as he scratched them into life. For an unexpressed thought will ricochet through existence slowly crumbling foundations. A recipe for disaster, one part love, one part lust, one part the closed eyes of a pretence, a locked vault of despair, a curse she never once wished upon him, never had she bound his tongue never had she silenced his silence. She holds all trust in their love, all belief in their truths. In the silence of no words said, she ponders the irony that of all the things he did not trust, it was her need to express without consequences to him, her need to understand the pain that drives, her need to have the freedom to be vulnerable, safe in the knowledge he’d catch her…
Her wings never did like the snug fit of his restraints, Her voice never liked the silence, Her eyes shone even in the darkness and rock bottom only ever proved to be a springboard But still, lost in the constant of white noise, even a phoenix tires with age…
Shh, I listen to the empty echo of 6am, tiredness still in my eyes, A vast sky whispering promises of light Lonely cars splitting atoms dividing night. I look along my road, dead lights, no life as people sleep dream and wish for more time. Grim has been standing guard over old man’s wife, But he doesn’t take her, not here tonight. Still age creeps in, always arriving at first light Red and blue glows illuminating the site. My sky is starless the moon is bidding goodnight, Too late for more sleep, tiredness settles in my waking eyes. Shhh, I sit and watch the morning skies.
Selene, do you catch the broken fragments of my thoughts, reminiscent echoes of ancient days frozen in the paths of time. My soul has aged in days gone past twilight has become my refuge. The ungodly hour of devils fun is scarred upon my wings in mottled greys of solitude. Shhh, do you hear the way my heart beats? A broken rhythm perhaps, or maybe just a forgotten hum…
For a brief moment my smile fell as I pondered worth, and instantly I saw this bird. Between dying leaves in muted greens Purest white and peach of cream. Colours so rich and vivid Symbolic of a life well hidden.
And I am five, colouring, sat alone when I discover navy blue and peach spell home, A moment of surreal calm among my storm How is it that a colour makes me feel so warm. Like then, but now I know take heed symbolism is the ageless seed.
My energy divinely sent runs low in the devils grasp, I wane beneath this crushing blast.. Won’t you walk with me in pastures old? Where silence whispers in a tongue of gold? Would you see and know and understand? As I pull of shoes to feel the land.
I pause beneath a moon lit sky of navy blue hear the forest call and think of you. I need pillows filled with feathers covered In pink, Purple, blue and green a place to talk but not to think. To stop let go and feel my soul In natures hand so I feel whole.
Would you sit with me among the trees? As the scent of earth entwines with me, Watch through broken branches a sky of stars, And ponder numbers, distance and life so far. Would you sit with me and hear the earth and love me hard till I see my worth?
Time spent swimming in thyme
blue oceans of salted seas
flickering flames of warmth
and silence, just soft silence.
Like an eruption of chaos
volcanic lava spilling,
You rise, she rises
Tiny atoms split
and split again
my deamon shatters among
this dark trilogy
of thought as thyme
fades, as time disperses
to become empty thoughts
in worthless verses.