there is sunlight. thousand-year trees. rare sightings of rainbows. I can see, smell, taste. my tears, my heart, people’s souls. I feel, I cherish, I let go. I breathe. a little of bit of me dies with each moment, and in place, a new fragment of my soul comes alive. I express. what passes me. inspires. touches. breaks. and perhaps. just perhaps. these tiny little pieces. connects the world to me. me to you. for a while I get. this is what life means. before the disconnect. but I only hope to remember. this fleeting awareness of.
poetry/
when words get strung together like music
rainbows cannot be
touched yet we do not deny
it exists like truth
I tried to write a crappy poem
before the night gives to sleep
to tell you how much you mean
but all could be conjured
was the scene of your light
setting my heart aglow so
slowly it was not missed
until the peace keenly
rescinds when you leave
your light stills me
yet remains unseen
by the person it emits
thus all I can barely attempt is
tell you how much I mean
in the spaces hidden between
the lines and our seams
if one day I should be
lost to time briefly stolen
perhaps these silly lines reflect
your light must exist
for they can only be formed
from a heart warmed and tinged
love touches the way
leaves fall with grace in autumn
snow melts in sunlight
only with distance
can we admire the stars
making a system
the sun lights up the
moon yet they stay apart for
their world in between
the aftermath of
a prolonged tender moment
lingers cruelly
I tried to pretend
you were an old book I read
shelved in a corner
we are two dancers
out of sync without a catch
when one is falling
we can love something
just for a unchained moment
it takes to exist