happy place

sea.breeze.

dark

black

still waters

seduced

by the shadowy breeze

all it can manage, still

is a faint ripple

the breeze

gets closer

her aeriform

gliding

sliding

slithering

over

his stoic

arrested

fluidity

he still

lies there

still

a watery mass

carved

in gravestone

her

tos and fros

his

listless frowns

morrow till dusk till dawns

she tries

all she can

till she goes from

husky to hoarse

he

moves not

not one edge

she

does not quit

her nibbling

and sweet talks

still nothing.

he suffers a silence

which runs deep

self humiliation

masked as

indignation

she suffers

a rejection

as visible

as her invisible being

together

they live

separately

like parallel lines

who live each other's

lives

but

never meet

aura

she speaks by writing

she writes.

when no one watches.

she writes.

when she is alone.

and leaves herself behind.

she writes.

not on pages.

not with ink.

she writes.

on the grains of sand.

each grain.

a chapter

a book

a life

in itself.

she writes on them.

and sets them sailing.

the wind in their sails.

she is.

taking her words.

to distant shores.

languages change.

with each roll of the grain.

she speaks by writing.

to friendly strangers.

she dedicates each word.

in her gracious solitude.

with gratitude.

she writes.

when no one watches.

I

Airplanes

wishful thinking

what if the stars

in the sky

were really just

fireflies

each pinned up there

for every wish

i wished

and what if

i caught them

in a jar

and set them free

in my room

would that make my room

a place

where wishes come true

or

would that make it

a room filled with

wishful thinking

wishful thinking

i assume

because, really

how does

a pinned down

wish

or one caught

in a jar

learn to

fulfill

and

justify

the reason

for its being