I am me, you are you.
Nothing more, nothing less, nothing in-between.
Two floating souls.
Meeting and parting.
Colliding like comets, then ricocheting away.
A smear on the topography of intimacy.
Dreary dreaming; docile days
Topography of the inner map of a misled, misguided, misunderstood child.
1The sincerity in your voice makes it clear. My mind just doesn’t want to make it that clear.
I complicate things.
I make things unavoidably awkward.
I leave with a scarlet face and hushed lips.
I am me, and you are you.
You really can’t achieve much when you’re lying there, pretending to be dead.
Drip. Drop. Drip. Goes the ceiling.
It makes me violently ill when I see those images of love.
But why?
I’m ‘fine’.
Not happy, or content.
Just fine.
I can be one of the most exuberant people you know, laughter and nonsense ricocheting throughout the room; until I fall deep.
Carefree and careless, I say and do as I please, free from a fear of judgement and rejected bond.
Ideas of peculiar behaviours, movements and actions. Not one can beset my whirlwind chances.
Those eyes they watch, full of intrigue, a short smirk, far from greed.
The heart beats louder, like a slam of a door. Your eyes watch intently as I begin to fall.
Crumpled and broken, my actions tied down, like poor Jack whom broke his crown.
No longer carefree, but with a buzz in my throat, my dance is now stifled in fear of revoke.
Guarded and careful, tender steps and what seems like a glare, replace the lively gait of the beautiful dance of a bird so rare.
Walls that fell have been rebuilt, with the intention of ridding her guilt.
Like a lead in a play, a dance, and a wave, all that is waiting for is what has been given is to now be gave.
A hush from a corner as he begins to spin, reciprocating her live gait and grin.
Like cheering crowd the two are in sync, like a skates and ice on the cold, hard rink.
Til again when she falls, feelings and all, will these walls keep her trapped and hidden from the one she adores.
Reality disguised.
Guidance is required, my guidance has been lost.
You began something. You showed me ideas. Now I’m alone.
But for a reason you left. Much of your own, but for the benefit of one’s greater escapes.
Or so one likes to think.
One will continue to follow the train, of bad influence, distaste and disdain, in hope to create the experiences. All over. Once again.
Darkness there and nothing more.
Dreary dreaming of thoughtless lulls, I nestle my mind into the sounds that ‘glug’.
Trapped by ear, eye and thought; journeys begin, behind the grins that distort.
Fearless words, hurtful thinks, day by day, my thoughts they brink.
