Better to have said nothing that to have drawn from me those tears,
I knew what was written on your heart, or whats more, what was not,
I had not wanted you to spell it out in that moment,
When I had pulled together more strength than you’d understand,
To wrench down the barricade that has so long been standing,
To fly open the portcullis and tell you what I felt in order to make you feel good,
I had not expected you to make me feel bad,
I did not need you to reciprocate,
To offer the same in return,
but to thank me for my gesture and say nothing in return.
And from that moment, what she saw of him was that which she had ignored before. It completed him and he was not as good as she had fooled herself into believing. She stood feeling vulnerable, that she had began to run into the woods after him and now she was there she was not so sure she wanted to follow, yet she could not see the way back.
Had he meant to lead her as he had, to take her by the hand. Or was it that he only meant to dance and now he was trapped with her in toe and not the heart to say he’d changed his mind when his thoughts were with the girl he danced with before.
Were they? or was she so afraid that she’d followed stupidly this time like she had before that she convinced herself it was happening again.
The house hums in the silence of the surroundings,
Just distant whispers of the cars, of the birds outside,
The silence is painfully loud,
The room so desperately empty,
Your things don’t belong here and yet they seem missing,
Your smile should be drawn on the walls,
And yet it is drawn somewhere else,
You are not expected,
There is no longing at the scratches at the door,
The phone stares, piercing in its seemingly eternal slumber,
The house harbours the lost soul that awaits your return.
- Silent Scribe
White feet that dust the sand,
Soaked in the bite of nature,
Clawing at blue veins, luring them into ice,
The pain would be there if the numbing wasn’t comforting,
Soul frozen, body frozen and yet how the heart and head burn.
You watch, stand there, so confused, so uncertain,
You want to pull me back, you want to want me safe and warm,
And yet your head does turn,
Back to the warm safe shelter where the years you have sat,
The walls may be falling and shards of glass litter the ground,
Ready as ever to bite, tear and rip at your flesh, your heart,
And though once you may have pictured yourself there old and weathered,
That shelter is no home,
It is more familiar than the ocean.
- Silent Scribe
I’ll always be cheery even when I’m sad because nothing slaps the hurter in the face more than a smile.
It rumbles through from ear to right,
The eternal noise never breaking the silence,
The lick of doubt,
The Spark is cast,
The hour grows late and the mind it knows,
Knows that it should really be sleeping.
But what if?
What if that one thing was true,
You know it’s not,
But it could be,
You’ve said it now it won’t leave you.
Around you the silence creaks,
Time hums its endless tune,
People they float, carelessly,
But what if?
That what if, oh how it nags,
How you wish you could carve it out of your mind and let it rot in the never thought,
But you did think it and there it stays.
There is what keeps you awake.