Stiff old furniture absorbs the weight
of a mind bogged down
not by the day's events
but by the event of the day;
another square on the calendar
something to be filled,
we scribble in with blue pen (never black)
to fill as much space as possible
and to plug the white holes of our hearts
not with pegs that fit
but with inky webs
meant to catch a day flying too fast.
It shouldn't be an anxious event
to be alone in one's home
with windows thrown wide;
my heart feels light as the wind
but like it's been forced through the same mesh screen
there's a beauty in the sunlight
that casts blues on the room;
so is it light
that casts the blues on my heart?
my energy always spent on insulating myself
from the bite of a voice claiming
wasted potential!
a voice chasing me in the circles
of my daily routine
so maybe it's time to change states
use the energy to become something
without need of warmth, only of
the glow of a life that doesn't burn out
but burns brighter
may the phoenix reborn inside me
catch you on its way out of the mould
that was crafted by lonely days;
it will keep my spirit warm
and hopefully yours too
so i won't feel as if i always need you
to chase the cold away.
But I can always use your flame
to burn all that's in our way.
