Good, Better..
There are isms about your face
That are familiar
So I search it always just to calm myself down
I remember one time when you looked up and I knew this would all go down
And so I let it be
Smiling comes naturally
Rebellion
My dear friends, I have made a practice to not write out of shear untampered emotions. This tends to come out irrational and nonsensical and gets me into trouble. And this point of the day, the defiant urge to do so is raging more than it has in a few months but I will abstain.
Instead, I would like to share with you this:
You feel like open water
A clear, cool lake that I'm beginning to crave
In the deepest, bluest way
I think that if now isn't the time, then I'll never know what is
And I'm praying that you're truly as refreshing as you look
Because I really want to jump in
This wasn't any less irrational. But definitely lighter!
Hold Me
In order to get myself out of this enormous sink-hole of my own seriousness:
(And still this sends the muscles in my chest into terrified spasms. I just want to have fun! Haltingly.)
I just want to write about it, plain and simply.
You are different than anyone I've met so far
Not the normal differences, such as way of speaking or walking
But something I can't put my finger on
Just different
Not hard.
Truly
What is it that I am
Swimming along side great whites and monstrous creatures
Toss the waves about me, but don't let me drown
Let me sore in the throws
I have fallen for a dream, one of authenticity
There's some sort of uncompromising depth here
That shadows steal across in their small moments of triumph
Save me and make me real
Snow
Under silent sky you daftly wait for the dice to be thrown
While the chances count like the flakes from the sky
Weightless, the size of sugar cubes, they blur your vision
And delight your mind
I have explained time and time again
Every scenario to my heart, mainly the bad
And I truly believe that it has somewhat understood
Like a mother to her child, it's hit or miss
The sound here is so delicate it is like clarity amidst a fog
As if you can hear each individual icy cotton pit-pat onto the blanketed earth
I have loosened my hold
And now I worry if that was foolish
If my assumption of passiveness was too early made
So I repeat in circles how it is it must behave
I think, like the snow, my expectations or feelings or whatever I have drop in massive beautiful heaps. They are caught by the previously drifted layer and settle wordlessly into their proper place. There is nothing harsh here, but a quiet movement to the bed where all, for now, belong. Hanging by a moment here with You, standing here until You make them move.
