Comfortable Silence

words have stopped

resting on the banks of thought’s river

staring out at the souls of stars

feeling no need

to flee, to flow

freed

to roam as they like

to enjoy the night

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Flow Terre

tell truth to me fast

then lie to me slow

declare your love

hollow words

designed for the show

only here for my luck

this I always know

prove to me then

you are aware you can grow

let go of the anger

leave it with the snow

burn in the ashes

tell me great tales

get the boats from the caches

let me guide you past whales

a tiger shines in the darkness

a dragon calls home

answer my call

use the damn phone

 

 

The Curse of the Sensitive Soul

Occasionally, I will read something, somewhere the doesn’t just resonate. It seems as if it is directly addressing me, reaches it’s hand into my chest and rip out my heart. I cry and grieve and generally ache, as if I have been emotionally wounded by these words.
This tells generally clues me into what I truly fear is the truth of a situation.
I both love that I can feel this and realize things about myself based on the reactions, and I hate that a handful of words, addressed to the world at large can reduce me to sobbing hugely and silently in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully avoiding eye contact with myself.