Clinging to the sobs that are clear echoes
Of the memories that torment you,
I spy your heart amidst the
Aching eyes of time—
Tired from a long stretch of unrest.
Sorrow sifts beneath your eyelids,
Seeking a place of rest
Within the corridors of your mind—
Rusted by self-inflicted wounds
That have erupted due to all the things
You like to hide.
I cradle your brokenness with my sight
As you regard all you have lost—
Always looking behind,
You never notice I am here.
My spirit shifts as it reaches
To stroke the shadows that grip your soul;
I love what you think you are not—
A masterpiece of archaic design,
And the beauty of wonder itself.
I can see what you have laid to rest,
(It is right in front of you)
Yet, you believe it to be stolen.
You look upon me,
As if to blame,
And see the hand proffered…
I still can view a fount
Of broken dreams raining from your eyes,
And it is then you realize that I can see them
You wipe them away.
I ask you not to be afraid,
Yet the creatures that lurk beneath
The skin still fall down your face,
And you must let it flow.
You ignore my hand.
Again, I am left to feel what you have left behind,
But I will find you once more,
Because you are what I love—