Water Stains and Blue Bottles

Willow 2

if i were to close my eyes
i think my layers would 
become reeds
so i think i will keep them open
only slightly
and just for now

 

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i enter the shallows
and my body cools with every
progressive step
i break the water’s placid surface
and feel the ripples twirl against my
moving limbs
it is calm, as am i
the constant breeze
freezing this moment 
just for 
me

 

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the hint of pine rushes
to my nose
deeper now than ever
before
i press further into the brush
leaving behind everything i was
the ground ahead completely 
untouched
ready for me
and i for it

 

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darkness
my fingertips trace my brow
my body, adjusting
the chilled air now apparent
to my senses
inhale
the winds outside whisper to me
the words clutch to my lips
but do not leave
my chest, tight
exhale
the night before flickers
i place my hand on his back
this place is my comfort
here, right now
light

 

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come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll listen to Bon Iver
fingertips touching
come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll dangle our limbs
cool breeze, calming
come sit with me on the windowsill
and we’ll get lost in the clouds
minds slipping away
at ease

 

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that day in the meadow
do you remember?
with the blades of grass so green
it was as if they had been painted by hand
one by one
and the whistle of the wind
against the surface of the water
letting us know that Winter
would soon be here
but it wasn’t the grass
or the wind
or the water for that matter
that absorbed me so deeply
it was you

 

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open windows and summer winds
with smells of citrus 
and hints of bare skin
as we dance between
claps of thunder and flashes of white;
our souls
alive

 

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he would whisper in the dark
out of fear the world would
hear him
but he feared not their judgements
nor their questions
but their truth
for he accepted that they already knew
he had just hoped that
they still saw him
as they had
before

 

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to the lady down the road
with a smile on her face
and a skip in her step
to the man in the home
with a tube in his arm and
flowers by his bed
to the children by the river
with no care in the world
running wild
to you i am but a stranger
but to me you are life
in both it’s truest and most
vulnerable form

 

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and the road ended, just like that
no signs, no warnings
just an abrupt visual of
nothingness

 

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long roads and gunshots
you see one, hear the other
a car breaks, a body drops
a heart races and another stops

 

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Water stains and blue bottles
i glance away and clench my fists
you’ve been here, i know
sandalwood and citrus
i will always know

 

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Sometimes when i pass a window
i’ll check to see if
i still look like me
i think maybe my looks have altered
to reflect the changes on the inside
but they never do
and i am thankful

 

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She treated me like youth
and i was okay with that
until one day she reached into
her made up cradle she put me in
and stripped me bare

 

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I’m holding the door closed
while peering through the window
able to see what’s trying to get inside
and telling myself i’m not ready 
for it to come through;
an unwelcome guest

 

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Among a crowd i could be mistaken
for just another boy
a youthful adult
with aspirations like everyone else
borderline dreams, simple
but little does the outside eye know
just how different i am
unique perhaps
who refuses to be grouped together
and categorised
with the people whom he walks among
a pioneer for himself only
with hopes to walk his path alone

 

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Acknowledge a label
but never let it
define you

 

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The unlikely innocents 
whom you considered to be frigid
fragile
late bloomers, perhaps
still latch onto others
and it surprises you
catches you off guard 
makes you attentive to the change
because you could never
temporarily
release your soul to someone
who opens theirs
and all other parts of their being
so easily to all

 

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The things i desire;
well they scare me so

 

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different eyes
see different things

 

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there are no responsibilities 
at 1am
perhaps that is why
i come alive at night

 

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people draw the curtains
across not only their windows
but across their souls
what a sad waste

 

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completely lost
yet completely in control
ironic
isn’t it

 

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the hardest part about growing up
is that you are never quite
finished

 

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for all those that cannot read my mind
i am foggy
i am dark
i am sad

 

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when will i get to exhale

 

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we speak the language of goodbye

 

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for years my life has been
a collection of ‘i don’t knows’
i don’t know why

 

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i feel the sadness more
when i feel the tears run down my face
a painless sorrow
a reminder i can break too

 

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he was stop signs and red lights
he was access denied and incorrect password
he was turn back and end of the road
he was no reply and left on seen
he was no
he was never

 

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i no longer water dead plants

 

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my petals have been removed
i am bare
there is nothing left to take away
i can’t come back from this

 

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i am not ready to be someone’s partner
maybe it’s not for me
maybe you are not supposed to be ready
maybe i will never know
it’s just the majority of us
society that is
become something to someone before they are ready
someone’s saturday night
monday to friday
someone’s two years
and then it’s all gone
i want more
than temporary

 

© smithwillowoak