#blendedshadows

[blendedshadows]

trying

Day after day, invisible planes roar above the clouds

Even after all this time, I still cannot adjust to the disturbance

Trying to find myself, I drown myself in music

[blendedshadows]

gone

This morning, everything was still.

There was nothing, only the static hum of silence.

I tried to breathe, but the air refused to enter my lungs.

I laid my hand on my chest to feel my heartbeat.

Nothing—my heart had left with you.

[blendedshadows]

dust

A flash of tarnished silver in the shadows

eats up your exhalations, your touch.

Funny, isn’t it?

Those pieces of you, unknowingly discarded

become so valuable to the smallest of things.

I reach out to touch what you’ve left,

your microscopic memories caught in air,

but they swirl away from me.

If only I could grasp as well as the silverfish does.

[blendedshadows]

competitive morning

After the furor subsided, I opened my eyes. You smiled at me, full of glee and a hint of smugness. “Got you first,” you whispered, and I saw the love in your eyes.

[blendedshadows]

breathing

Her smoke fills the air, and I suffocate.

Her voice drills into my head, and I retreat.

Her marks on your skin make me burn as well.

Just a few more days until we are free.

[blendedshadows]

almost there

Muggy.

Tonight, the spring air is a trickster. It is static and suffocating, trying to pass itself off as summer. The atmospheric warmth makes it impossible to do anything productive, even though school dictates otherwise. Almost everyone gives in to the deceptive heat. But the insects aren’t fooled by the weather. The cicadas are not yet singing their sweet song of freedom. Soon though, their chirps will fill the air. You will wake up from your bare slumber and smile at me. 

We are almost there.

[blendedshadows]

I have the space to breathe, but I still cannot.

[blendedshadows]

visiting, pt. 2

In the cold haunted shell of your house,

I stand in the shattered glass of your past.

The last time I was here, everything was stifling heat,

and I felt suffocated by the memories of before.

Your past experiences, your past love.

Her rich strokes, still draping the walls,

made me feel like an unwanted intruder.

This time, I feel stranger still,

though definitely not as terrible as you do.

I keep out of the way as you rummage through your old possessions,

noting silently the fist marks in the walls,

where you- the younger, angrier you-

left your mark.

It used to be covered up,

but now, walls stripped and bare,

the brokenness is there for all to see.

There is nothing to hide anymore.

But at the same time, there is no one left.