"Drops"- Jungle

and sometimes i wish i were a piano.
yours.
so you can play me with your dancing fingers on my back.
coaxing melodies out of my heart.
to sing only to you.

but you play for someone else.

"Love is inexpressible... except when it's broken" - Leonard Chen

Hazy clouds drift silently above in the cover of night. Light becomes trapped. Within orbs of glass, reflections of puddles, the glint of dark windows. But the window pane is cold tonight. Fogged up, it shuts her in and shuts her out.

And so she sits up alone. Stuck. Tears silently drip while the night does only to cover her with a cold blanket and hand her a cup of melancholy. 

"Suddenly I'm hit. Is this the darkness of the dawn?" - James Blake

let me be.
while i slip back into my hiding place.
too much light,
the black will descend to calm me once more.
so let me be.
while the storm rages on outside.

"Just leave your heart to the swaying swing while looking up to the sky. Then you'll really see your own feelings."

Shy eyes, comfortable laughs.

An ambiguous closeness settles over us while our stories intertwine with the wisps of smoke that rise from our cups of coffee.

And I wonder if you can hear my thoughts.

Hidden in the small silences between our twirling words, they hide behind my smile, they stay guarded and trapped.

Repressed.

Concealed by the depths of the forbidden.

But oh how they leap at the sight of you, a touch, your sound. A longing that lingers though I try to muffle with conflicted feelings. 

And in this odd space between us, unspoken words seem to speak more. Whispering gently of a perhaps. A perhaps. 

I ponder your mind. 

I ponder your voice.

I dream dreams that perhaps only I dream. 

But this secret I will keep.

My love that has fallen asleep.

Am I a man who just awoke from a dream that I was a butterfly, or a butterfly who has not yet awoken from a dream that he is man?

Expired. 
I lay on my bed staring at the sunlight that slipped through my window shades. The wind mingled with the billowing curtains and the clock ticked obnoxiously loud in my ears. How steady and slow time plodded at the moment, yet soon night would come. today would be yesterday, and tomorrow would be today—in an instant. We have so much, yet so little in the world. 
And I felt expired. 

But water blinks on contact and chaotically explodes in jet black—a loud and bold statement. Slow motion catches the pigment in an instant, and the black seeps slowly deeper down leaving trails of color in answer. Ink dances. It twirls. It swirls. From dark streams diffusing into wispy clouds, ink floats ever so gracefully in water. 
In its own world, it is beautiful.

"I go to seek a great perhaps" - François Rabelais

He sits there
head throbbing, thoughts pulsing painfully through his mind.

Hands shake, cold air bites,

wisps of smoke rise

And he sighs his emotions out

In white swirls, his thoughts float away, drifting off to melt into air. 

But sinking into his calm

the smell of cigarettes lingers only to bring the memories all back.

How do I reach you? 

when I know my words cannot heal. when I know my hugs cannot help.

while I sit here lonely and you sit there alone. behind a screen of smoke lost in your own world. 

How do I reach you?

"And when you’re standing in the rain 할 수 있는 게 별로 없지 내리는 그 비와 함께 이 마음도 젖어가겠지" - Nell, Standing in the Rain

his quiet voice fills my head
so loud so sweet
sinking into me
so i can't hear my thoughts
nor his words

--

Title: "And when you're standing in the rain, there's not much we can do. For our hearts will become wet along with the rain"- Nell, Standing in the Rain

"Most of us remain strangers to ourselves, hiding who we are, and ask other strangers, hiding who they are, to love us." - Leo Buscagli

I always wondered what she looked at.
Because she gazed out the window.
At the sky. At the airplanes. Above the tips of trees and buildings.
As if she were running. Away and away.
Along with the birds that flew so freely and the clouds that drifted lazily across the world.
What did she look at?
A world all her own, tucked within the slips of her small smiles. A melody only sweeter because it ceases to exist. Held perfect, in that silence, more beautiful in imagination.
The air held its breath as if the moment itself wanted to stretch and yawn and sit idly next to her.

If only I could catch her. her thoughts. her heart.
If only she would look at me. For I was always looking at her.

"Be the calm in the center of the noise. Be the eye at the heart of the storm."

It was a timid knock at first.
Quiet, subtle.
A whisper to slip under the door again, to ease back in time when everything was still.

Silence.

She knocked once again.
Louder, adding rhythm to the beats.
A playful edge. Perhaps they will notice now she's changed. Look at her life, her vitality, her smile. 

Silence. 

The door loomed in front of her instead. Growing, growing. Darker.
"Mom?" the little girl asked hesitantly. 

"Mom?" "Dad?"
She knocked again. More frantically. Banging, screaming, kicking. 
Did they not hear her? Will they not hear? Her efforts became more desperate and 
Anxiety seized her from behind, choking her, strangling the breath from her. Black stains began to bleed. 
around her neck and in her heart. Fear. It was Fear.

Gone. Gone. They were gone. And she was abandoned. 
Shut out in the world of black corruption and decay 
And the knowingly ignorant just
forgot.
Living their pure fantasies inside the protected and clean house.

"Dirty," they said. "She was too dirty," they whispered.
Indeed. White. They saw only white. But with eyes black, darker than the world they made, winking sinister grins.

"Poetry is always close kin to the impossible, isn’t it?" - Alvin Feinman

Sing to me, my love.
And I will spin stories that fill the empty cup in your heart.

Sing to me, my love.
And I will dance with you eternally as your other half, your other hand.

Sing for me, my love.
And I will be yours forevermore.

---

To spin, to twirl, to dance. Alas this happiness, I hope your last strands will not escape my reaching fingers. And instead I will be immortal. In this snapshot, this moment, and time. My etched words to walk on ahead of me.