Messages to me

MESSAGES TO ME

The sun rays sip through the curtains skewed slightly by the morning breeze, 

your large eyes wide open your smile radiant, 

I can hear crows gather outside in numbers to a sight of this carcass,

my heart laid out plainly in the open,

all my feelings chaotic.

The rains wash over me like the sun's rays keep my blood flow warm,

like the warmth in your voice was all that mattered in me there in a desolate cold place that never felt like a home, at all.

The numbers piled up as the hours slowly counted down. 

Your soft voice, your whispers, a past me before.

My past lives, my loves, a tight secret held close.

The shards in that past truth painfully tear the skin in my hands,

but I know you know this, as well as you know "everything" else that I said. 

I really don't believe in love poems, 

they just make me feel sad.

They always feel like a vein on the wrist cut, held out airing whispers to hold my hand tight.

Saying, do not let me bleed out.

I imagine, how many more flowers didn't bloom to make this portrait of us I believe won't bear fruit, 

how many smiles were really frowns how many lights dimmed bit by bit because the of all the scented candles we'd forgotten and left unlit. 

To make choices, to choose, and live in the canvas of what seems like a happy art.

To paint, 

to choose, make do with what my heart wants. 

To smile, 

feel warm inside again and again, 

make choices, the fire that burns inside the fire that devours the dark.

Make memories of small moments,

crave the times when you're not around.

Be fragile in these times,

Relive the images of when you wake up and smile, happy, bleeds from me excitement with each beat, pounding over and over, heard embarrassingly aloud.

I like it, 

like fragility in my thoughts.

I choose this, right now,

to follow blindly everything I feel inside. 

✔️03/09/24