Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The terminals all carry a burden, each gate a sad goodbye.
The saltwater of the tears slick the floors of the airport.
The terminals all carry a gift, each gate filled with hope.
Those tears are mopped up by the smiles of the happy.

Read it how you please. See what you want to see. A sign is yours to interpret. Look to the skies and you'll never fall. The clouds will lead you, the stars will guide you.

She talks to herself because there's no one else.

Tears at the beginning of my long journey home, I cry myself out and reach a state of total numbness. A layover brings me back to the real world, I'm reaching normalcy. A simple call awakens me and I'm excited. Ready to start my new life. Ready to prepare for those days that I come bhack and start a new life with her, better late than  never.

Nails digging into my skin, I embrace the pain. Better there be blood than tears. She's telling me the story of my childhood. A straight face, she means no harm. So palms pressed into my thighs, I count my breaths. My lips clamp onto my straw to keep from quivering. The pain that's not just mine, but my sister's. The slap across her innocent face makes my cheek burn, the hunger in her stomach makes my full one ache. Stories that make me realize how protected I was. A father fighting the one he once loved to keep me from knowing such a cold world existed, if only for a few years. Memories rush back of a small hand grasping my even smaller one, pulling me from danger. All of these emotions in the blink of an eye and I'm back to listening to the saddest story I know.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Maybe, but I'll never know.

I write the me that only I know. It's not others' faults for not knowing, after all, it's all just one big lie. Smoke and mirrors shroud the truth. A mask for the soul hides the parts I want shown. Flaws sneak through and I dream of the maybes. The never-knows. Maybe there are lies for a reason. The untapped beauty of a soul is to remain to oneself. Maybe by writing all these thoughts, speaking them aloud, I'm messing with powers higher than me. Bringing ugly into this perfect world. Loneliness is in fact a gift. Yet another theory that life throws upon us, or that I find myself digging into the mystery of.

The glitter of the ocean blinds the dreamers,
makes them realize how large the world is.
Their footprints in the sand slipping away with the tides,
the salt of their tears collects.
A child steps into the sea.
Splashes the water and drifts with the current.
He tastes the pain with every rush of water.
The sorrow crashes against him harder than any wave could.
A tsunami of emotions spanning the world.
Each drop of the ocean another story,
swallowing you,
overcome with empathy,
you drown.
There is no place for dreaming in reality.

Sun fading and we're weaving through the Alabama trees. The road trip playlist and the soft reassurance of humming along from the backseat, you watch the windows. The clouds disappear through the leaves and you wait. Eyes locked waiting for them to come back, knowing they will but in the back of your mind wishing they won't. Begging time to stand still, forever in that perfect moment.