Dancing.
I
Replace my worries
With passion.
I forget all but the music and my body moves without
Any other concern but a rhythm
Older than time.
For all of me loves every layer of every note,
Every beat.
If I were not able to dance I would die,
The weight of all I carry in me crushing
My very internal being.
I have to set those fierce ones physically free.
The ones that hang on so very tight
To my heart and skin,
That cannot be
Placed in ink or breath.
The dance becomes me
And I,
The dance.
He can
Pour his heart into
Ink and
Whispers
Yet otherwise, his
Voice
Falters
For words.
I dreamt a dream of times past;
Of you and I.
And I was overwhelmed with
Emotion.
I began to weep.
How can my heart be light yet heavy at once?
Thinking to capture you
I reach for pen and paper.
To write you down.
To read you forever.
But,
The ink had run dry.
To tired and weary to rise from my bed
I kept the memories
Lit inside me.
I placed my head on my pillow
And went back to dreaming instead .
Seduce.
You lure and entice.
A poet’s seduction.
A maker of sighs and smiles.
Words of reality woven
Into the ink of fantasy
Until you cannot tell
Which one you have become.
Which one you yearn for.
Words caressing your heart and mind.
Finding their way into depths
Even you yourself cannot find.
Tempting and tantalizing
Between passion and longing.
Loneliness and belonging.
Lust and hate
Love and distaste.
You’ve left yourself
Bargaining for
More than a phrase.
Our love cannot be
Written in a poem.
The mere thought
Of it makes my heart tremble.
It is those words left unspoken,
Unwritten
Floating free
Between the ink and paper.
It is omnipresent
Yet
Cannot be possessed.
Only
This ink and the moon
Know how lonely
The night
Has
Been.
Raw and gritty.
Poetic and pretty.
We choose our savior
Or poison
And hemorrhage ink.
Black and white.
Flat.
Words a medium through which
We express
Love,
Life,
Hope
And loss.
Alone,
Until they are shared in perfect sequence.
Our secrets no longer our own.
Emotions that have not a singular name;
There we find we are the same.
This fire that burns inside.
This fluid that seeps from my veins.
This howling within my soul.
This nameless passion remains.
These thoughts, these words,
These emotions.
Scorching me from the inside out.
I pour them into the ink
Where they lie lifeless,
Smudged and soiled.
Cold
And motionless.
Emotionless.
Mocking me without a sound.
Ridiculing me
Without a
Doubt.
Clamouring and raging
To get out.
Every word
Battling ferociously
To get to the top
So as not to be
Forgotten.
Chole Into Diamonds 