so sings the wind

I hold life in the pal of my hand, let it soak through my skin like water, like milk, staining the pattern of my creases and lines; the map to my heart.

I want balance. I need truth. I want to know where to make walls so I can make windows thrown open to the sky, to the roof.

Climb. Climb out and beyond. I need to know. So I can respond.

Cloudy eyes today, yours speak words that run away. I cannot follow down darkened hallways. I must walk with the sun in all these new ways.

Still haunted in the middle of the night, still reaching for something completely out of sight. But cuddled by blankets and wrapped in dark, I find a new kind of sun, inside myself, a shinny new spark.

Tap, tap, tap on the glass, let me in. But the clatter of keyboard keys oversings the sound of asking to come in. Tap once more, ask it once more again. 

I may want you. But I don't need you. You may say you crave me in the mornings and in the nights, but I cannot see you behind the walls you've built, the walls you've always hidden behind. I can love you. I can set you free, but only if you choose to be real with me.

So instead of turning, spinning, running, towards you with open arms. I shall sit quietly, linked only to my own heart. That is the only one I can know truth in deep, the only one I can know for sure, for keeps.

Open up your sweet pink rose, open as the petals wilt and fall. We shall find a kind of peace inside the beauty of us all.