The Envy of Time

Please step away
From the shriveling cold
You know you're more
Than what you've settled for
Quietly moving
Because you don't know
When to slow down

I just needed to be held
Escape the world
Inside my head

And breathing
Only turns to fog
So please step away
From the shriveling cold
Kissed my lips
The wish I sold

Declining Freedom

Scorned in your stare.
Betrayed the home that held you.

Abandoned the love that made you.
Stole the people that let you.

One single quiet rose left blooming in fields array.
But the wind cannot move when there is nothing here to push it.

Thorns waiting to pierce through intricate fingertips that refuse to touch.
And each and every petal will melt it's red pigmentation
Into a puddle amongst the ground below it's fall.

Without the air, no voices will be carried.
Without a drip of love, hearts begin to grow weary.

Landscapes have collapsed like a painting of colours bleeding into one.

A lonely rose left uprooted in the earth continuing to hold it's roots.
It is possible to let go of everything, but the stem of pain expanding your fracture.

...

Yet time will leave you behind,
The way you deserted life treating you kind.
Like tripping over shoes left untied.
Impossible to heal what you cannot rewind.

Everything meant permanent in your life, has been chosen to be tossed out a window.
You cannot replace or retrieve what was given but gone unrecognized.

You will only realize this when your eyes reclaim they're potential
Of waking and blinking after a solid sleep.
Of focusing in on blurred vision.

And all you'll see is an empty room.
Not even the walls have been painted.

Creation is our artistry.
Destruction is your backfired weapon.

You can't go back to the house you left.
You can't take back the past that is gone.
You can't live without traveling the road ahead.

Each step you take is backwards,
Bad luck is not your curse.

Hands held out to save you,
Each time, you chose 'Reverse.'

Blending with Black

You push my black with your coloured painted palette 

I'd rather be the paper than the painter.

Slick strokes created the mirage of a bond once held together by a frame.

No longer a picture perfect portrait.

Friends biologically formed.

And drifting,

Don't let my solitude break your heart.

I like to stay closed while you blossom next to me.

Watch the world, I will watch you capture it.

But inside my closed petals, there is another I have made my own.