‘WORDS’ THE BEAUTIFUL INKBLOTS

there is a lilt
in our words
when blue moons
meet dark skies
serenaded by silent
dreams ~

conjuring words
isn’t easy
cause feelings are
hard

the ones that float
in salt water
longing for the
softness of pink lips
in a warm night

oh! did I say hard
nope, feelings are honest
only if
we don’t have to talk
about them ~

perhaps
pain is a
cracked perception

but words find it
thrash it
enslave it

and poetry
seeps out of cracks
where we hide
in plain sight

pretending
no one can find us
scraping out
the pain

as we make
feeble attempts
to glue back
our torn skin
into beautiful words ~

perhaps
words were never
meant to be called
beautiful

and blindness
is not an option
when you crawl
through the
contoured verses ~

perhaps
our hearts hold
magic
but the fear of
logic
burns it

I think
‘never’ is kinder
than ‘perhaps’

but ‘perhaps’ has options
just like poetry

it cuts too deep
too easy

also pulls us out
let us empathize,
verb words
and changes us
into patterns
of free flows
straining out the pain ~

ultimately
all we are left with
is words

‘beautiful inkblots’
in a different
shade
of darkness ~

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