Sunday, October 26, 2008

Linguistic of Lamentation

I never knew it could feel like this.
That the past memories of the love that I had would be a reason for me to keep pushing forward to hope to find my heart a real home. To find my creative place upon the surface of the moon's reflecting light.

I don't ever forget you, please know I don't do. Your smile, your touch, your body, your ample intelligence of mind is all left in my Velcro hands.
Though I fail to see that if you really loved me, why can't you treat me with some decency?

I have died in my own hearts bleeding sea, I have died at the thought of mourning the loss of your face as a reality of my seeing grace.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, the thought of you churns around in my head. I look around to catch a glimpse of light that falls upon the silhouette of my darkest thoughts.

I can't give up - that would not be in touch with that which I desire to be.
Sharp, open, striving, awakening, alive to see that what will be, is an intention that may still come to me if I remain kind to the idea of being free.

I'll keep giving my best that I can with hopes of understanding the masterplan. Let me lay my head upon your chest - I want you to hide me away from all this unmerciful stress.

At my best.
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