Thoughts, feelings, fears.

She misses his mouth,eyes,face.

Is love blind?

Perhaps.

Staring out the window, she hopes he will come up behind her, hold her, kiss her soft skin.

That does not happen.

What is he doing now?

Is he thinking of her?

Is he touching another?

Italian love songs in the background, tender sighs, and dreadful whys.

Depicted nonsense, and makeshift love signs.

Unheard to the deaf, and seen by the mute.

Careful selection, and untold deception.

Ti amo?

Je t’aime?

Te quiero?

Words.

Only words.

The mouth can give thousands of words, but only one true feeling.

To tell a story, to give an image, a gift, a refused exhale, you wonder through these fields as if unfound.

Come back to me my love.

Come back.

Empty without you, caress, tender, scream.

Art, Fate, Life.

You are the paint to my canvas, the water to my river, the leaf to my branch.

Soul?

Body?

Infinite.

Accept this, accept us.

Hold your head up high, you are the pride of my beating heart, the reason for my strive, the understanding of my being.

In open arms, accept this.

Accept us.

While listening to this beautiful song that I grew up to, I am inspired, I have had a bad day, and I feel like frankly, I have had a bad month.

Money is low, opportunity inexistent, hope is helplessly chocking on fear, and then it hits me.

I grab a dollar from my wallet, a plain piece of white paper, a classic black sharpie marker, tape, and scissors.

All while, still listening quite loudly to “Break Free” by Queen.

I set up my utensils, this will be brilliant.

Tape the dollar to the piece of paper.

And write:

“When all hope is lost… I will spend this.”

Note the exact date and time.

 I feel free of fear, of doubt, of stress, of any of these constraining feelings.

My only thought: “It is what it is, and if the time does come for me to spend this I will know I tried my best.”

Some may say I am cheesy, or laugh at me for actually believing in something, but since then my life has been as carefree as possible. 

Whether it was the song, or just the utter need to rebel against my fears, I did break free that night and said “You know what world, fuck you. I will make it in this world whether you like it or not.”

The paper is taped to my mirror in my room, and it reminds me every day I wake up that everything will be okay, I will make something of my life, with or without money, I will do it.

We drift as the wind upon untouched leaves, not to wonder in our fellowship, but in all else shall we find our true breath.

You and I true, not a dream, but a happening of miracles, we rise.

Close thy eyes, open thy palms, feel the water flow, the blood blow, the winter speak, and the summer weep.

One we shall be, one in unity, one in difference, one in reverence.

Her eyes reflect him, her lips fitting to his, his belief, his faith, his everything.

Manage these hardships that face our standing, our living, our wanting, small fingertips encounter his tough skin.

Without words, they tell a thousand stories, soft piano music in background, their souls melt one into another, all is perfect, in song and in life.

Her eyes close as her lips only slightly make contact with his, the skin trembling as his hands embrace her ever so lightly, as the sound of rivers flowing through lands untouched she gives herself to him, vulnerable forever to his light.

Rays of sunlight enrich their bodies as one lay next to other, a love uncontrollable, unstoppable, incomprehensible.

Dismay fills her every vein, as she opens her eyes.

The night sheds it darkness upon her, like the fall slowly sheds its green to grey.

Utter sadness overwhelms the soul, as realization of the beautiful dream enters her thoughts, untrue, just dreamt.

Falling asleep once more, her heart breaks piece by piece, day by day, alone she is once more, the soul consumes itself until it shall have no turning back.

No death can be this horrid, the soul cries out for mercy, for release.

Soon it shall consume no more.

Diminishing soul of my being, redeem yourself once more, hope is on the way.

My hatred for your mistakes grow each day.

You say that children should have a chance.

Where is my fucking chance?

Where is it.

I am your creation.

Your hope.

Yet, every day you throw more obstacles my way.

My eyes weep because hope is lost.

Humanity disgusts me.

And every face I see sickens my insides of hate and confusion.

I was once promised the world.

Where is it?

Where.

Is

It.

In this night I befriend your true self.

You horrible excuse for a dream.

I believed in you.

I did.

How dare you.

My rage cannot begin to be described in words.

For the feelings inside me do not have definition in your tongue.

And as each day passes, the sparkle in my eyes fades.

The light my smile once set upon the world, now diminishes.

I do not question your actions.

I despise them.

I despise you.

I despise every despicable living breathing scum that does not appreciate the sun rise each morning.

Die a horrible death you sick worthless excuse for a human being.

Dear world.

This is what you have created.

And I am not alone.

This once hope filled offspring of love and caring, feels like the world is nothing but coruption and selficious possession.

Revive me.

Just try it.

For my roots have already grown.

And they are thick.

Spite raises its siblings inside me.

And when blood shall spill from the throats of your elders.

Do not look down on me.

But forever bathe in your shame.

For my blood no longer runs for your false truths.

No longer do my eyes seek the light of possibility.

Despair fills my palms as I walk this lonely road.

And as endless lives pass and new beginings spawn, I wander.

I wander forever in your thoughts.

For now, you are being judged.

You and I both.

As if letting go of each unhappy event occured that day, she runs.

She has found it.

The one thing that can actually give her peace.

Alone in silence, she passed each house, wondering what those people might be doing, if they are happy, or sad, or maybe even content.

The end of the street approaches, her ankles shake, this is the only pain worth it.

A release of all tension through her bones, sweating all stress through tiny drops of eliminated water.

At the corner of the street, she stops, to possibly catch her breath, or perhaps admire the night sky.

A cloud smeared over the sky, as if strokes from a painter, the stars arranged in no particular order, but still indescribably beautiful.

Feeling as if she is watching through windows of the mind, she pauses, takes a deep breath, and realizes how truly amazing this world is.

Forget bills, forget the new car you want next year, forget that you need a new couch, forget.

Remind yourself of what beauty you can expierence by just opening your eyes.

Truly opening them.

She took a seat on a rock, cars passed, but time seemed to stop, tears filled her eyes, overwhelmed by what she had missing all along.

Freedom.

Freedom of the soul, the freedom to let go of all problems, all fears, and just live.

Just feel the air enter you, the blood flow, the heart beat.

If only this moment would last forever, she did not want to get up from there, ever.

For she knew she would return to the life everyone leads, ever stressed to accomplish and make it.

Never to realize how time passes and never to really stop to look at the world around you.

She returns leaving the spot where she had been reborn, a simple corner on the street.

The wind ran through her hair is if desiring to stop her.

Her lips dryed by the physical exhaustion, but her soul kept going.

The night had changed her, and entering the house she felt a feeling of hope she hadnt felt in a long time.

Although lost, she can still hope.

Just hope.