Trace

Show me your scars
So I can see you have lived
Laugh and tell glorious stories of how each one of them came to be
So i can see you know how to live
Pause to take a moment. To listen. To feel.
As the finger slowly traces down the wound, the mind quickly flashes to where a hand traced down your face.
Was this the start of a new scar or the healing of an old one?
Either way time slows, freeze framing us all.
A picture for which the devil hangs on his wall to bring him peace and God keeps in his wallet just in case he is asked.
As I am snapped out of this day dream, we find ourselves in a moment that is past that in which we were, the obvious seeming so meaningful without understanding why.
All the while elevating us from the video games we were playing, up to the ultimate game we do not always realise we are playing.
But we don’t save seats here. Those that do, often sit and wait alone.
Here we banter, smile and talk to strangers.

I have found life is insanity with you, but am somehow sane because of you

- Sleeps

Rock

I feel I may have lost you but you have not lost me
Sat on this rock
For whenever or if ever you need to rest
From the swim
I too can swim with you or for you
Bomb in and splash for effect and fun
Or dive like a needle to minimise disruption
-
I know, though, swimmers grow through waves
I would not take that away from you
But I have begun to learn to ask for help
I hope you begin to do so too
If you do, I will be
Sat on this rock
For whenever or if ever you need to rest

- Sleeps

Over a hill

He wondered if he wasn’t told to fuck off
He wondered if he wasn’t told it wouldn’t happen
He wondered if he hadn’t heard the voice or the message
Would he have a voice, a place
Would he lean back one day watching his kid play, oblivious to all that has happened
All the choices, beliefs, sacrifices and reliefs his father went through
For them both to be here
One to play. One to lean back and smile.
He designed it all before his grandfather died
And before he died, his grandfather asked what the significance of the flower was
He thought for a moment and recalled a time when Something Beautiful was simply something beautiful
And reflected on how he had lost that for a while until he came across that flower
The flower had a beautiful life but didn’t think it could cope with him being in it
So instead starred at the wondrous silver columns of the falling rain that came through the peaceful sounds of a solitary night
When it rains it pours, but to see such beauty in pain and falling rain was rare.

- Sleeps

Absence until fulfilment

I’m leaving. It has to be this way.
But why? I am because of you. My life is built around you.
If I did not leave you would need to.
I don’t understand
I am not love in your heart, I am habit to your psychology
If I was always new, I would never be me
‘You’ is the trick that was pulled
I will miss you
You will miss yourself, but you will become something refined. Then you will see you don’t need me, then you will see I never left, then I will return and both ‘you’ and ‘I’ will die. It will be beautiful.
... and if I left?
Then we would be each other.
You’re not a movie, you’re a poem. Without diction. Without readers.
If you want to experience something, do so alone. If you want to live something, do so with someone.