crystal blue lavender

The musical echo billows into the sky like a thick gray smoke

It seeps through a crack in my window filling my lungs causing my heart to ache and my eyes to blur

The nightingale continues to hum…

En Saturno Viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos En Plutón Aún se oyen gritos de amor En la Luna Gritan a solas tu voz y mi voz Pidiendo perdón

A suffocating sonnet filling me with poison

How can such words be strong enough to steal a breath

While ours quietly faded like starlight at the break of dawn

My days are a musical scale followed by a double bar with two lingering dots

Played by a prodigy  cuffed to her gilded piano

Lacking that familiar flutter— any small sign of life.

A quiet numbness echoes through the ribs, holding body and mind suspended in time.

It’s almost comforting to feel nothing— giving up almost feels freeing.

Almost.

It stays contained, sealed behind an iron door—

one that I alone can open.

The agony is knowing I must keep it shut.

Because if I ever release it,

I feel there is no hope of saving what was once deemed beautiful.

Only the cleanup remains— pieces splashed across the floor.

Then again, one person’s golden chandelier is another’s gilded cage.

In truth, it was never beautiful. It was always broken— and this is the moment we finally see the fall.

as if you were my other half in a previous life—

one I decided not to choose again.

Life has moved on. Now I live with the guilt that without you I fear I will always feel incomplete.

The shivering ceases as I feel your arms close around me.

Like a frostbitten bee caught inside a bloom— petals folding inward, reviving its faint glow of life

I am something small, buzzing with leftover fear, learning what warmth means by staying still.

When my eyes fall upon you it is as though a long absence has ended— as if you have come back from somewhere far off and dangerous, and my world is whole again.

You hold the softest part of me as though it could bruise from air alone. Your hands already know how careful they must be.

I was once something injured, found too long in the open, unsure if touch would hurt.

You lifted me anyway. And held me close.

and which is more desired?

One who can stoke the flames of the soul,

like a skyscraper burning to the ground?

Who can snuff the flame out like a wick drowning in wax?

Or one who unwaveringly keeps the flames lit-

like a fireplace on a frigid Christmas morning.

Every sundown is more torturous, knowing we are close enough to feel the same breeze and see the same moon

Yet knowing speech will never come between us again 

I communicate in codes

That your eyes will never lay upon 

The memory consistently broadcasted nightmares silenced by your engulfing grasp 

Only now pull myself out of the deepest layer, cold and alone 

Distracting myself in the worlds of others 

The padded cavern that once surrounded us loses its warm safety, slowly decaying into a cold, empty shell— a constant reminder of what could’ve been.

Was it all nonsense?

William Shakespeare