Earth.

mornings, where the moon

lingers in the sky

a little longer than it ought.

 

I imagine – a cry for attention

in the face of wanderers below.

or perhaps – a desire to see 

the happenings of the earth without the cover of night.

 

oh what horrors – never meant to be seen

cloaked in darkness

you, the moon, have witnessed

I suppose terrible love as well. 

for in darkness the human extreme, 

is realized. 

 

I wonder if you are disappointed,

at the bustle found in the light.

 

not much occurs here, 

the ones you see at night – 

and shake your head, 

pull back in shock,

lean forward with love –

they are quite normal here,

very – boring.

incredibly – distracted. 

 

here, mornings, where the moon lingers in the sky

and I sit gazing upon him,

a little longer than I ought. 

frosted breath.

shaking hands.

early mornings,

before the earth awakens.

alone with your heartbeat.

 

when the silence of the air,

is thick     –    almost    –

             loud

in its stillness.

i am home.

//home

 


flowers grow in her soul

weeds threaten to choke her mind

growing through her veins

attacking her blood and beating heart

 

but flowers grow in her soul.

//flowers

 


She walked with spring in her steps,

and fall in her hands.

 

Hope trailed from her.

 

Her face, bore marks of tilled soil,

Seeds ready to burst,

Into a garden.

//garden

 


You’ve been dug up 

And planted again.

Expected to grow  –  thrive  –

They wait for evidence

A bloom.

Their eyes won’t leave you,

Their words envelop you.

So you drain  –  every good part

And make a flower so perfect

   untouched, unblemished, innocent

 

Finally they remove their eyes –

Take away their words

Only in exchange for your bloom.

//thrive