“When I look into his eyes I see a story, a story not similar in anyway to one I’ve seen or heard before”
“Their eyes were the same colour as the sea in a postcard someone sends you when they love you, but not enough to stay.”
― Warsan Shire
I linked this to the sea, as the sea isnt always blue, sometimes its green,grey or a mix – at sunset it can be gold or red, and it reminded me how eyes are like the sea reflecting the sky 🙂
The colors of the rainbow,
So pretty in the sky.
Are also on the faces,
Of people going by,
I see friends shaking hands.
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying,
“I love you”.
Heres just a quick idea that popped into my head before- think Ill develop it 🙂 Feel free to comment !
When I was younger I got told
Heaven was a place where you could be re-united
with everyone who’d left
and everyone you loved
So I thought Heaven was a beautiful place.
But as I grew older
Just because someone had left
doesn’t mean they had died
and just because I loved someone
doesn’t mean they loved me back
It is now that the beauty of existing is most profound.
The noise of the day
receding into silhouettes,
The sky returning to its global stage even though the audience
has already gone home.
And only the homeless and the insomniacs left to appreciate the spectacle.
After all only the sleepless understand the true depth
And only the sleepless get to see the real show
Everyone else was sold fake tickets to one-night-only delusions
That will be forgotten when the sun violently wakes to blind them.
After all, the sun isn’t as humble as the night.
It is now the weights of the day are dissolved
by the simple quiet of twilight
Everything that makes us human
becomes nurtured and eased,
At rest with the acceptance that we exist.
That our skin is just for show
and that the only time we actually feel is
when we are touched.
When our nerves lie still and yet the curtain of rain causes fresh
drops to seep past the muscular barrier
We all hide behind
It is now the grace of calm holds us close
When the stars lapse the beaches of humanity like
Glowing algae kissing the shying salt flats of Bolivia.
Yet all we ever do is stare.
Hoping for a Shakespearean-style tragedy
So we can all wish upon a burning flame,
Reaching out to feel the pain of something very real.
The mark it left reminding us of all the hurt in reality.
And how wishing wont make it any better.
Because the burn
Became a story you could tell
A story from the long nights where we didn’t need to wish.
We just needed to dream,
Even if that meant having more drinks than usual.
Because I’m not placing
Into something that’s adrift in an emptiness far vaster than my soul.
So please excuse me if I take solace in the shadow of the world reserved for the restless,
Knowing we only rest-less
as no comfort
has ever satisfied our curiosity.
I apologize if I disappear at dusk;
I am just escaping the lust
of what the world has become and
not what it is. Beautiful. Magical
And ever so slightly
And I’m sorry that during the day my body is present only as an actor
Projecting what it is to survive and not to live
I belong to the night.
I belong to a solar system not a country,
A universe not a race
I am an existence
and that is