Wake up look me in the eyes again
I need to feel your hand upon my face
Words can relay nice
They can cut you open
And the silence surrounds you
and hunts you

I think I might’ve inhale you
I could feel you behind my eyes
You gotten into my bloodstream
I could feel you floating in me

Words can relay nice
They can cut you open
And the silence surrounds you
and hunts you

The spaces in between
Two minds and all the places they have been
The spaces in between
I tried to put my finger on it

I’m poking through my head, finding the words that I want to say, want to write, want to live by in the hours, days, nights, weeks, months that it takes me to write them down. I’ve placed a block on my creativity for a while now and I’d really like to get back in touch with the poet that once resided within me. He speaks to me, still, trying to unlock the door – wants to be from the prison I’ve sent him in since I gave up on the poetry world, tired of all the shit and politics that have arisen from it. And now I want to call upon him to write again, feel again, allow myself to live again as I have once done. Lemme be that kid who took rides from strangers because it was raining and I didn’t see any other option. The guy who took risks and felt something other than this. Who allowed disappointment to make him stronger and try harder on a person rather than letting them slip from my fingers. Who leaned closer toward agnosticism rather than allowing the faithless enter. Whose disenchantment only strove him further into the realms of what he didn’t understand, know. I want the  possibility of a higher power to guide my hand as I write, rather than resigning myself to a world without possibility.

And there we were, the two of us, gazing at the starline as it was swallowed by the seas. The stars like ballet dancers, twirling for all eternity. I want the comfort of your warmth, the knowledge of your security as we slip away from this world into the dream. Grant me the courage to change the flaws I can and accept the ones I cannot. Bless me with the wisdom to tell the difference between the two, between the old and what is new.

Twin dancers upon the pavement, swaying with the wind. Feeling the air seep from their limp limbs as the ecstasy pushes them round ‘n’ round. Dancers in the rain, that’s what we were. Just children feeling the tears of heaven slip down our necks, onto our backs. And we were surging with bliss and innocence. I want that feeling to rejuvenate me. So conjure up the spirits and glamor them, tell them the sweet nothings you whispered into every girl’s ear in order to do your bidding.

There are spaces on the shelf where the books of our life shall sit, never to collect dust. Never to age with time. We are eternal and we are immortal within our love.