DayTim

It’s odd to admit that I’ve struggled

to put my thoughts on the page.

I spent a few ages

pulling all the dark spots from my head

and using their ink to fill my notebooks.

But that darkness has thinned

and I’ve lost the need to empty it.

So I should thank you,

Reckless repeats

of rocks on your window.

Retrace the cracks

of before you were known to me.

With water rising,

the leaks refuse to relent,

so we bail out.

The carpet sulks,

still soaked with salted moments and broken cassettes.

It’s better to swim forward

Chalked fingers scribble in haste,

frantically searching

for words within blackboards,

hacking away, to expose the colors beneath.

Doors closed, not to embrace darkness,

Stone cracked and fractured under feet

uneasy.

Tide pools of starlight and moondust

leak out to boundless seas,

and to the horizon,

At your bedside

tears hide in the corners of your eyes.

Hands moving tenderly

stacking bricks in your linen wall,

not to fortify but to hold

Leaves rain down like ashes of the sun,

burning itself out,

Dawn breaks a gray horizon

to pieces.

Shattering the rain

Flames in the air

dance above the clouds,

Rehearsed incantations drip from your tongue,

oozing out bland and colorless.

Cookie cutter catchphrases,

that inspire like a funeral.

Pain like water

bubbles forth from trenches,

scars in the earth.

~

Gently rising as the moon takes its post,

but receding as the sun makes itself known.

~

Water, pulling back as the sun shines

Hands caked in salt you rummage

through the sheets of your bed,

searching frantically for the coffin you built there.

But you can stop crying,

despite your wishes,

Faint glow beyond the tree line

sets the sky ablaze.

Songless birds float delicately

above the haze.

The morning comes with little sounds,

few and far between.

Fire cracking, bursting forth,

I love you.

And I know that might be terrifying

because you’ve never believed yourself worth it

and my words threaten the idea you’ve

held too close to your heart for too long:

that you’re not enough.