I live my life through the words I write
Words repeated over and over,
laced with pure intention
but lacking follow-up action.
Phrased a dozen different ways,
but all meaning the same:
nothing,
when never acted upon.
Lose the mask, the facade of purity
and good intentions,
it’s time to break this pattern.
One whole person
cannot fill your cup completely
other than you.
One you can fill your cup,
which cannot sustain with only one
ingredient.
Explore, discover, ask,
how different people, places, thoughts,
can fill your cup
in a combination so unique to you,
it dances back into your eyes
like a mosaic,
imperfectly perfect.
The most troubling of anxieties
shattering of hearts
conflicting of minds
magnetic of smiles
and piercing of eyes
create the best poetry.
From the smouldering coals and ashes
deep down within me,
you found the one ember still alight
and reignited the flame.
The flickering lights in my eyes,
heat building on my skin,
sparks jumping through my heart,
you brought it all back.
Perhaps we can leave it at that,
perhaps that’s enough.
Perhaps that’s what you were meant to do
for me,
and nothing more.
Maybe I don’t need to be here or there,
one place or another,
black or white.
There must be shades of grey in between
across the spectrum,
where we can still be together
but get as close to the black and white
as we can
without losing the grey completely.
Maybe I can have pieces of it all
without inflicting self-destruction,
without being all-or-nothing.
Maybe all I need to do is ask.
Please, I ask for your patience
as I chip away slowly at the wall
dividing you from me.
I understand the divide it enforces
because I feel it too,
although most times, I enjoy it.
That’s the problem,
for you despite it.
Keep trying I will,
to knock it down and prevent rebuilding
when I look the other way.
Pull me back from the routine of hustle,
racing against time to optimize productivity,
working fast and diligent
because I am the only one.
Pull me back from the hustle,
make me slow down enough
to have a conversation of leisure
with you.
Remind me of other worthy goals
besides the numbers and dates.
Pull me back to myself
like only you can.
The sun has come up today
just as the song promised yesterday
it would.
Watch, stare,
as trees, grass and houses
come into view
illuminated
by the sky turning soft blues and pinks
softly, gently.
The sun will come out tomorrow, too.
More beauty awaits us then.
It was when I set my mind
to listen to the words,
not just the music,
I heard what I had been missing
that it was already there
all this time.
Dreaming of the impossible
the never-happened, never-will-happen.
Dreaming of a past which does not belong to me
and may not belong to anyone.
The sights, sounds, conversations, feelings,
they are too real
to be imaginary.
They must be real.
I want them to be real.
Dawning Words 