I have never seen the snow
but I have been
cloaked by
thick woolen blankets of cold.
Of nothing.
Melancholic chill emphasized by the
lack of sun shining,
reflecting in my eyes.
Everything tasted bitter.
No means of heart nor
hand held to be sweet.
An ocean full of people;
I was drowning,
and yet,
I wasn’t even submerged.
“Show me how to live.”
How am I to assist a
smooth faced angel
when I myself can’t stand on
my own
two feet?
I sway.
But if I can sweep the ashy blonde hair behind his ear,
then stagnant I shall remain.
From paper
to Rock.
You can write love letters on paper but
you can carve them
into stone.
“Show me how to live.”
Living isn’t being alive but
feeling.
“Show me how to feel!”
they’ll cry,
but crying isn’t an emotion.
Feeling…
Truly feeling
is being encapsulated by warmth when gazing into
icy blues.
Feeling halved when you are whole.
Aching cheeks when they smile;
red painted lips,
scattered hair,
you’re still perfect.
The snow I’ve never seen refused to flurry in my vision.
The sun,
she isn’t shy,
She dances and sings and she
glimmers sweetly on
beautiful faces.
To be lonely in a room full of people is to be freezing under a blanket.
Get a thicker blanket.
Surround yourself with different people.
Refuse to be alone for you will
thrive
when you pull back and see
eyes closed;
cheeks painted pink.
Flowers will blossom for
you
to pick and the rain
will sing;
for precipitation only bears
more foliage for
you.
Giving and taking and
giving
anything to see his nose crinkle.
You’ve shaken hands with symmetry,
but these marble sculptures are
whole.
Show me how to live?
No,
Friend,
do not watch, for this is not a show.
Seek it,
find the heat when the snow falls,
wear a coat,
not for fear of the cold but for
acceptance of the
warmth.
Make open arms
from closed fists and
sway.
Be a metronome until
you, yourself,
have found a rhythm.
And Sing.