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Posts Tagged ‘gray’

Think about the pen and the fingerprints

romancing in the glistening dust against the sunlight.

The faded photographs with watermarks

of remembrances salvaged from the past.

Brittle to touch and slowly turning to ashes.

 

Think about the bookmarks of dried rose petals

and the faint smell imprinted to the pages,

rescued from the years of forgetting the ones

that mattered most. And the dreams that never

meant to be owned like the earth where I stand.

 

If the promise of coming back becomes a distant memory-

counting each sunrises and every new moons. Let hope

travel its feet while I sit beside by the window waiting.

For innocence will turn my graying hairs to white

and youth will leave me like the wilted leaves of autumn.

 

The season changes and they say time heals every wound.

But the scars of our love-thorned lives remains relived

in our book of days. I wish the summer winds will carry

the ashes until forgetting. I wish sleep will banish the things

which I failed to tell you when you left me. I moved on.

 

I have written letters with the pen until it dried out of ink

I have recorded our memories for fear that it will be lost too.

And my waning mind gave birth to words I have bookmarked

with fresh flowers that blooms from the same earth I will lay

with my dreams. I am not afraid anymore of the longest night

 

until tomorrow.

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Gray is the color of the blank space

which separates the day into the night

I am caught in between.

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Beyond the years and graying hairs

I am keeping in a book of dreams.

 

Like dried leaves and dried petals

flooding my way  to the mailbox,

togetherness is just one simple note

of words handwritten in a page.

 

And in my dreams I am trading places

of happy photographs and postcards.

Those promises that fill my head

I am dreaming still. Wondering

 

what’s like to be on the other side

traversing like pigeons. Drifting on

edifices, and parks, and monuments,

wide-eyed in surprise, collecting moments.

 

This morning, I waited for the postman

dropping another note to my mailbox.

And I’ll begin to step back in time

miles and miles away from yesterday.

 

Wishing and hoping memories can be

such like these,  just keeping souvenirs. 

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Be still. Please focus. Would you wait

until my iris capture you of snapshots? I am here.

Don’t notice. Your portrait on my mind, I dodged

and burned. Don’t worry. I won’t

over-expose the sequences of the memory

fleshed out from my canister, the last strip of film.

 

On my negative- your wavelength of light escapes

through my lenses, I would carefully unfold and record.

Don’t look. Deeper. While single color vanishes

with intensity into highlights and into shadows.

Frame by frame, I would filter the black against

the white. Your reality becomes my abstraction.

 

Would you mind, if I convert the colors of the spectrum,

your seemingly pixilated illusion to just shades of gray?

Tracing back the images in a locomotion, so slow.

My camera obscura. Clear and sharp, as you illuminate

a world forgotten just for once. A neutral silhouette

Don’t notice. Keep focus. Don’t cry. I am here.

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That day,

you made  the sky heavy-

falling tears like rain.

When a down-trodden

waded through a flood

of despair, and I am

walking away in shame-

as if the world

crumbled, suddenly

turned pale to gray.

 

My heart

I  offered in a plate-

full of strawberries

its first fruits.

But your words-

that rejection

knifed and sliced

into bleeding pools.

Until I am strained.

 

That day,

my eyes were opened

of reality here-

I am standing

this gulf

between us-

You and me.

No way

I cannot swim.

Nothing but to see you

faintly disappearing

while attempting

building

a bridge

joining you.

 

I have tried

finding a boat to ride.

Taking me there-

where you are,

but, all was a crowd

I can’t get through.

Trying-

finding another

path to cross,

but lost.

Until I forgot about-

You.

 

That day,

I made my peace

And I found myself

kneeling beside

a savior-

that wounded  feet.

This sweet sorrow

is nothing more

than a heartbeat

now belongs to yesterday.

And here I am

Looking-

the other way.

as He carry me

through another day.

 

Down at the wayside

perhaps, by chance.

I cannot cross

the other side. Maybe

you won’t let me cross

this great divide. And

losing what I think

is all I have.

This believing…

This hoping…

I stopped.

Since then, I know-

you’ll not meet me

there- a space

that would not be.

 

That day, I instead

I met the One

In a place, even I,

would not suspect.

Good thing is,

I began to see

how blessed,

when someone could

and would love me-

for what I am.

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