Purple of anger

It’s a mute anger that bubble within
There are no words, neither a tear of pain
Past pecks at conversations by gone
And yet it is all the same again
Carried by clouds of your unfeeling
I have traveled miles into nothing
All I see is more and more of lashes
Coming from a whip no one saw
A stalemate of minds
No chess board has an extra row
For my king to slide into safety
And have no black queen come hunting
Tin roof over my mind
Clatter loud of falling tears
It’s the silence of a broken heart
Of love not seen nor heard
Except a sigh of anger at the unsaid apologies

Bridge over the seas

Long wide stretch of blue
Smiling white tips of waves
Swirling sands
Sticky wet flowers of passion
All around suffocating
Let me pile stones of silence
And build my dream bridge
Across these seas to get to no where
Let go of my little finger
I need to walk on my own
Close the doors of hammering memories
Leave a footprint fading on the sand
And go where nothing can reach
Or touch the soft walls of my heart
No more scars or ugly scratching
There is no color that can wash away
All those pictures left unattended
And yet I let the breeze from the blue
Touch gently to soothe
Hoping they will fade from over delicate veined skin
While i walk on this bridge of silence
Searching for nothing
Finding nothing
But me.

Window seat

You sit at this window seat
Watching a city go by
Vehicles spitting thick poison
That seems like yesterday’s ache in your chest
No more adding of lost hopes
Subtracting any broken dreams
Tomorrow’s sun may be a few times brighter

In the heat of new days to come
A flower may bloom in fire and not perish ever
Meanwhile
Sit at the suspended animation of this moment
Not letting any tear drop into the dust of yesterday
But seeking a piece of soul still held together
Some where in the wings of life’s stage

Sepia of scenes mopped by a digital camera
Hold your hands firm and doesn’t let go
Yet
Feet laden with the burden of yesterday’s pains
Move forward
Leaving behind an aching heart
Untangled emotional ties
Coming loose from passionate binds
Once held precious
Now
Turning into fine dust

This is the window seat you see the world go by from
And you sit here
Not lost anymore
But
Trying to find a word lost in the past
In the smoky corridors of heart’s inner recess
To stop the mathematics of life
And sing a song of morning mist
In a tango with fine rays of another sun