Blank? Hidden?
What is your silence?
Who lingers behind your eyes?
Do you see it all?
Or am I the blind spot?
Solid or smoke?
Who are you --
Who are your thoughts?
Does your knowledge of this
flicker in the recesses of your mind
(in the split seconds --
between each of your heartbeats;
with each flutter of your eyelids
through each shaky breath;
in the moments in which your chest
stills)?
Or are you stuck in fallen clouds?
Is it too much?
Is the mist my mirage
(or my reality --
what is the difference)?
Do the darkest lights come
from your words?
Or from the kaleidoscope
you have built inside
of my mind
(dark lights from your gaze
filtering shadow from light
and painting pink blood
over the sky)?
Is this a wicked thing
come from whispy air
and curls of static?
Hidden? Blank?
YOU ARE READING
The Second Time
Poetry☾ This is a book of drafts of dorky, hopeless poems, poem-ish works, and rants that usually make no sense whatsoever. I hope you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoy writing them. ☽ Copyright © 2015 by something1d, all rights reserved. Poetry...
