Poetry
| Oil Stains… You have seeped into my skin Soaked into my pores like An undiscovered oil Slowly applied daily Until my breath begins to taste like you My eyes begin to speak like you My laugh begins to sing like you My mind begins to write like you My hands begin to think like you And I smile As the thought of you Keeping me warm Until the sight of you Becomes enough…
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Nature
It was as if I could lace my fingers with the wind and hold hands with God, letting
the confusions of the day drip down through my tears and allow the breeze to wash
away the inconsistencies this life brings my way, slowly breathing out the melodies
of time preventing the realities of this being to envelope me, causing blindness and
fear. So instead, I breathe, with the breath of a newborn baby waiting to see what
the fresh burst of wind will provide, erasing the sorrow and pain replacing them
with sunshine dipped in rain, shining so brightly that even the moon has to turn away
and devise a plan to release this mental strain, so instead, |