Reflections in my eye

Ripples became the pond,

and everything gave way.

Green beards swayed gently

aged by winds,

now less than a breeze...

And the swarm of flies,

intolerable

but they are what they are

and will move.

The sun gracefully dances

relfections from its eternal memory,

Calmness disguised,

Hidden in a moments wave,

when the ripples become the pond.

In the completeness of a life it will still.

And simply reflect the bird who once struggled,

The bird that flies.

All reflections in my eye.

The Waltz

They all step forward
I step back,
Supposedly a dance.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh but this cannot be.

Content i am
to sweep the floor
to turn around and leave.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh, but this cannot be

Because they dance
One step for them
and backwards twice i fall.

From what they see
they waltz with me
Oh, but this cannot be.

Spinning rhythms,
I cannot feel
Lost as an outside beat

From what I see
No waltz for me,
One is my way to be.

Awkward Grace

So small my butterfly,

how you do emit this grace,

Awkward do you flutter,

how alive it makes this place.

Such uncalculated motion,

when you sit upon my hand,

Your colors turn the world

undeniably, divinely planned

And how your beauty moves me,

Oh i want to weep.

Calm does sweep the world,

when i watch you sleep.

So small my butterfly,

how you do emit this grace.

Awkward do you flutter,

how alive it makes this place.

The Exchange of Words that Never were.

Words for who you are,
were,
wished to be?

Lost in lies
those three words,
never meant for me.

Yet there you stood smiling,
Flowers,
you wrapped with a bow.

Breath gone.
Heart stopped.
Suprised,
I could still ask you to go.

So there I sat,
quiet,
No thought in the air

and

In the end I walk,
Left moment,
Pretending not to care

Does grey exist?

Does grey exist?

where there are two white colors?

Or is there just one decision.

Can grey be the answer,

choosing one over another without concequence?

Satisfaction from the grey

or black and white life?

Confusing matters of satisfaction

and choice.

Does grey exist?

It will have to.

Because no one cries

She did not move
her frail limbs,
as the flies buzzed.

They seemed to wait
silently she pleaded,
only with her eyes.

They bulged with hunger,
extending past the physical,
She wanted.

Trying to pester her in to submission,
So they could feast.
She will not.

No one understands

She walks on water,
when She lives another day.

Why does no one move the world for her,
Why does no one save her,
Why does no one cry for her?

She will never know our currency,

never know a filling satisfaction
never taste a fine wine.

Human, She could know love

but
She cannot even see the beauty in life,

Because no one cries.

Words for why I stayed

We were,

and we became.

The more that we became,

the more i was,

to you.

And you grew from me,

love?

whilst i remained stagnant,

indifferent.

However

not in mind, thriving from yours,

Brilliant i say!

Intense listening,

Your words did enrapture me.

We were trapped,

I in a caged enamoured state,

my mind longing more pleasure

and you a blind love,

unreturned.

If I were a bird

Ascend,
I would to the skys.
Live,
I would for the sake
Born of feather,
I would be

...Free?

or
Regretless,
from a lack of choice,
Joyless,
from a lack of sorrow,
Loveless,
from lack of hate,

If I were a bird.

Past reflections

The motions came easy,

and i felt for you,

Just that something in your eye

and i needed for you,

You'd move the world

If I asked you to.

And i knew...

How bright each day became

and i wanted to,

Observe each moment,

and be with you,

To have and to hold

And i knew...

I did not love you

Reappearances

On a starry winters night,

the sickness was caught.

Feeding on the heart,

pleasure from sucking life.

And it did Climax,

Causing nausea,

worse,

causing hurt.

Too soon

It did leave,

leaving a void.

The sickness slowly forgotten.

On occasion red spots reappear,

the nausea returns.
Annoyed,

She will live with the sickness,

and its sporadic returns.

Learning Love Through Pain

In awe he starred,
small, frail, curious.
The flame danced and flickered,
he smiled and cooed.
The light grew, and so his heart.
He was warned,
but how the young naively dream,
and dance with flames.

Thus burnt, he cried
reaching for those who warned,
met with concern,
with love.
Allowed only through searing pain
He recognized a better light.

He did grow,
and embrace his scars,
to only him they did belong,
his tale and scars synonymously unique.