Sunday, February 9, 2014

Echos

I am not a graceful person.  Not Saturday morning,  or Friday night sunsets. I'm like 3 am gunshots, muffled in the distance.... 

I'm a frozen window in winter, my soul cracking nightly; I fall from elegance and  apologize for my sadness. 

Most times, I believe I do not fit... not with other people. Any people... lost, lonely, but not alone. Always with my thoughts. My thoughts, always with me. 

I belong to the years that are no longer... the way light and dark, mix beneath my skin... they become a storm. 

You never see the lighting, but hear crackle. Then the boom... Flashes in the night, drifting across the midnight sky. 

Like I drift across life.. wandering like an echo in you're mind. How do you see me? When looking through you're eyes, do you see the clumsiness? The stumbling along the way... 

Is this why my wretchedness are echoed in your eyes..... 


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