Earth draws in, The air tightens, The fire burns bright, The water eases slightly. The earth calls out, The air evades its own space, The fire bubbles and burns, The water dances on the surface. The earth, pulls, The air, leaves, The fire, sizzles, The water, flows.
Where should I stand, In the corner? Head bowed Trying to prove my guilty side, That it was always right? Where should I stand? Behind the pews? Hands clasped Asking for forgiveness from a god That I never believed. Where should I stand? In the middle of the ocean? Chest tight Breath choked out of my lungs, like the truth. Where should I stand? On a sandy beach? Toes spread Celebrating my only victory of Conquering my own mind. Where should I stand? Before your eyes? Nervous - shaking Waiting to be judged - scolded, Applauded - hated - loved. Where do I stand?
The water trembles between my toes, But the tide is yet to move, Comforting solace repels the waves. Sun holding itself from truth. The sand here burns, melts away breath, Chastising the silence, making it screech and bend. But the water is cooling. The tide is calming. The waves bring comfort. The sun still holds the truth. The day time twists, pulling tightly, Taking the last part of itself to keep for sure. But the water has gone. No tide exists, no waves. The sun has set.
The roads are winding, Green fields are forever passing by, The highest buildings- Tickling across the skyline. No. Looking. Back. New faces meeting kindly, Old faces repressed and forgotten, Habits lost with the new face, Feelings fade in each new place. No. Looking. Back. No-one knows, no-one ever will, It's our secret to keep, I won't tell and I know you can't, We'll both take it to our graves. No. Looking. Back. Time ran out, sand blew off. The sun still burns my eyes, The warmth that wraps you, Wraps her tightly too. No. Looking. Back.
If I close my eyes, I'll lose that image, Your smile will fade. If the night consumes me, I'll have to wait again, Anticipate the morning, Where I'll be closer again. If the rest encompasses me, I'll not be able to feel, The soft movement of your breath, The steady rhythm of your heart, the tenderness of your touch. If I fall into a dream, Will I remember you're there? Will you leave me in the night? Will I move too far away? Would you let go of me? Would I even notice? If I go to sleep, Will you still look at me the same? Would the night become a dream? Will I still feel the same? Will you still smile at me? Will I wake up at home? Will I still be happy? I don't want to sleep. This is the best dream I've had. It can't stop.
Your breath, let linger upon my neck, Your fingers, let trail down my side, Your tongue, let fire a million nerves, Your body, let wrap around mine, Without guilt, without revenge. Just passion Yourself, let take me to a heaven upon earth, Your hands, let caring caress me, Your lips, let lock and dance with mine, Your voice, let charm and impress me, Without hate, without sorrow. Just Passion Your length, let thrust through darkened hours, Your touch, let explore most elated, Your words, let enter and plunder, Your eyes, let see beyond their sights, Without other cares, without distraction. Just Passion
Why is love pain? The unhealing wound, The deepest cut, The loudest cry. Why is love pain? The broken heart, The teardrops, The weeping eye; Why is love pain? The crying child, The bank account, The earnest shout.
He's not the one for smiling, He loves his darkness so. Everything a shade of black, With stains of unwanted heart beats. He wallows in his own sorrow, But edges the worst away by blade, He has a girl, a lover, He sees collateral, a hostage. More than a major depressive, Un-controlled by Prozac, or Clozapine, Prone to miss a dose, And not scared to overdose. He doesn't give a damn, Tries to defend those around, But loses his own battle, Loses his own mind.
He lies so very still upon The white linen sheets. The muscles and joints Locked into a cast iron Ridged bodily form. Breath on hold and Lips iced blue. A peaceful look upon His departed face Sadden loss to all. A golden wooden box, In which last goodbyes were said, Before their mourning Wake for the departed's Departure.
Sorry shan't heal my wounds, It won't take away my pain. What happened, unforgivable, evil, And I've yet to understand it all. I used to unfathomably trust, To let people understand me, Yet now these scars, Prevent me from standing free. How could a friendly gesture, Breach all walls of protection, Leave me unguarded, insecure, Fearful of the monster, that's you. I doubt my own mental strength, And your strategic attack Shatters any fortitude remaining, To grant your one, unforgivable wish.
The Poet Armistead 