Would it have helped?
To have had some deep-sewn language in common,
to have walked in each other’s lines
rather than falling between them,
scraping our broken,
on the splinters between how you see the world.
How fluently we could talk
if you knew the heart that lives here,
rolls down hills
that none of your words
have thought to climb.
Isn’t it a curious thing to be seen and heard,
to find the one who gets you,
who walks along the broken cracks and dances
between the abyss
of crevices and broken keys.
No sound emerges –
not even rain,
bell-like and fugitive
through the piano of society’s symphony.
It’s more than broken,
more than lost,
you just weren’t playing anymore.
Silence speaks a thousand words,
without uttering a sound.
It’s simply a darkness
and a light,
rarer than precious gemstones
and harsher by far
on those delicate eyes –
harsher to see
and harder to find.
~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~