When is the last time that artistry has
exposed me for who I took the chance
to be? I am now frantically searching
in corners I someday might call cozy-
defending intersections like I may never
see the way across turbid affairs....
So at half past midnight, I sit here,
low in my stance, fearful of heart,
but remaining, always holding on
for the efflorescence of my life,
when home is beating inside me
and I am with you.
Until the place where freely borne
wildflowers ballade, and lockets
sated in meadows show us tranquillity,
can I even unravel the hands we will
shape like clay? For you are my
unsigned muse, my conflicting eclipse
that does not shadow in darkness
but leaves me in the effect
of you.
And I'll still be listening for when you
careen through my chamber and become
my wild love, who applies love with honesty
at the slightest touch of my angst, and is the
one who writes bravery upon a mad world
of mine I call imagining-
for I still hum to myself in hopes you
will recognize and cherish me, find me
in punishment and captivate the moment
where you quietly shift into an artist
and make me remember lullabies when
I had nothing
but you, to eventually become.
Written August 12, 2012 at 12:18 pm.
*Got inspired to write this while listening (on repeat) to one of my favorite songs "My Love" by Sia. Tried a longer style here instead of breaking apart stanza so often. I wanted to keep the flow going- thanks for reading :)
