I rest you
in front of me
And paint you through
my lashes.
Keep you hidden
within those black windows.
Some unrealistic
connection it is.
The hue is natural
So you, so me.
This time
My fear facing me.
adores me,
approaches me
Whispers to me
That now he likes to celebrate me.
And I couldn’t let go of those
whispering sounds
Turns out I was the one
who adored perpetual darkness.
My voice doesn’t reach you there
But I know you hear it
My screams get numbed
But I hope my silences scrape you
a forlorn attempt to hold you
a whimsical endeavor to outgrow you
my memory poisoning my dreams
your absence obscuring my senses
when sunlight enters, I see
the bright light mocking me.
A voice always calling out to you
doesn’t matter it’s day or at night
Morning is meant to illuminate
not to succumb to dark.
Collecting souvenirs of wretched soul
my voice eventually chokes to death.
You’re like the stars in the sky
I saw in my childhood
twinkling, smiling down at me
assuring me of a beautiful darkness.
That the places I choose to be
I’d be followed faithfully
with a poetic hope
whispering
that nights are
as influential as the light.
Once upon a time there was an ugly, unwanted girl. She always thought she deserves the worst. She wasn’t calculative but she could thoroughly calculate the weight of dreams were too heavy on her real self. That those wild imaginations never matched up to her realities. Looking at world she presumed herself to be far above them intellectually, while connecting to them made her feel so obtuse. Where was the real struggle? Inside or outside? Why did she have to have such negative notion about herself? Negative – – why this word never felt so wrong? Why this felt like it’s someone who’s close to her and stayed unlike others? May be because she was dark. She embraced emotions people vary to touch. Because sometimes it did bring some solace. But then was it the right thing to do? Prepare a standard chart to compare both worlds. Her’s and outside’s. It was clear outside world is just a plain stage with run-of-the-mill performance actors. And what she was, was not negative or antagonistic. She only recognized herself on a different level. Neither negative nor positive, it was her. Something to ponder upon. That she could start over and change how she thought of herself and not like the initial lines of this passage…