Open Mic.

In these pitch black corners, I've sat quietly; calm like a stalker with unlimited patience, waiting for the seasons of poison to swallow my love in one gulp, with an earnest hope that they do not disappoint. When I was 7, I thought love was being abused by a 19 year old girl who was a freshman in college. When I was 8, I thought love was asking her to marry me. She said yes, and I painted a portrait of love for her. I left with the promise of forever with her, but before the night unfolded, she set it on fire. She robbed me and left me stranded at the altar with my wooden ring which I carved out of a withered tree branch. The years have slipped into oblivion. My skin has matured but my mind on the other hand, has yet feel maturity. I have often loved the darkness and wondered when the light would challenge me to be better. I’m a broken soul, maybe hell-bound with no remorse or regret. The life I live, I live in the shadows of my own eerie reflection. For what it’s worth, you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. I could fade away on a cloudless summer day, or on a beautiful spring day and no one would remember my existence, however brief it was. The days slip into oblivion and I have yet to grasp the full extent of my own nature and why I do what I do. I have seen how the storms come and go, how people always leave, and lived on broken promises.

We turned the pages as the fold of time slipped by, and we watched like strangers who had known each other forever. What to pen these days is almost lost within me as I wrestle with the notion that distance has been cruel to us...it is almost like passing a camel through the eye of a needle. I have for many days pondered in the depths of heart profound thoughts that could better explain a perfect frame of us. A frame  where  we both exist in time present. For what it's worth, every smile that creases your lips is a ballad to my heart and  it lingers like beautiful mist in the corridors.  To leave the borders of your love would bruise my heart and burn my soul. So I hold on to the heart that holds mine, to the hands that comforts me, and the embrace that brings me warmth. You. Maybe distance will part and separates us. Maybe our  hearts will let go and fall into oblivion about how we feel about each other.