A familiar tone and a familiar face

she speaks with time interlaced

once just young and obnoxiously curious,

now pensive and strong like a thick flower's stem

her words move with strength and flow like waves,

the honesty in every pause keeps listening ears engaged

When did this change occur?

Perhaps during my absence,

life is a surprise only because we cannot witness all of it

we are given one scope of vision,

each to his or her own path

but the world is full of them,

lives weaving and crossing, sometimes paralleled.

Change comes in strange places,

what once irked one may now bring one to tears,

life continues to occur with everyone individually, simultaneously

here she embarks on the next footfall,

in this brief encounter where our threads weave together

I watch in wonder of the grand scope of the painting of the world.

i used to be unbroken,

Mended daily by prayer,

spoken softly with hands that felt,

lips that spoke, and

a heart that soared.

reaching for a trace of that memory,

recalled by innocence,

sought,

blinded by distortion,

eaten by frivolity,

take, take, take

cease the unrelenting torture,

hold still the trembling, wait

time will peace keep,

down, and up as direction can go.

clean face

wipe that smug smile off your face, it's insolence slapping the screen.
Your pretentious quietness blows explosions out of the sky, the sky being my mind.
I can't take it anymore, I don't want to hear your silence any longer.
I am impulsive and estranged from your words, from your attempts to save me.
This is not a plea or a cry for help, but rather, this is the truth; the person who, while you were around was gagged and held hostage behind the closed doors of some superficial decency.
What is decency? Who benefits from the Truth being locked away for the sake of kindness, and is it kindness or is it a seed planted beneath the soil of your mind that, when watered, will grow into an immense obstruction to your view of life. A vast plant with roots sprawled out and attached to your heart, your eyes, your mind, your bones and veins, all connected back to this carcass of nature. Or do such paradoxes not exist? Is it possible for something with kind intent to grow into utter corruption? Take this note as a warning for all the times the Truth may be in hostage in the moment of realization or potential vulnerability. When your worst fears or even sensitive inklings are expressed but not addressed, remember that Truth could be silent in your companions heart; it could be gagged by secrecy or "kind intent", but if you listen carefully, listen for every intonation and tone of sound, even the slightest inflections can trigger a sensitivity in your hearing, catch it. Catch it and examine it, and choose carefully what you do with it, because if you plant the words they say without filtering out the messages unsaid, whether they exist or not, you might just be investing in a seed of self destruction. It isn't always as obvious as the words, sometimes it's in the gestures, in the eyes, in the unseen but felt exchanges of atmosphere. Even a clean face can hold a grimy cell where the truth is locked away. Find it and search for it, I will not plant everything you say to me because of that.