You walked with a poet and she became intrigued
The way you’d calm her erratic spirit with a glance
It was almost like magic
She didn’t sprint away like her past always said she should
You ran with a poet and captured her interest
With soulful azure eyes you shattered her walls
It was like they’d never even existed
You were the calm that stilled her storms
You lay with a poet and made your way into her bloodstream
And now your essence in her veins must become ink on paper
As she bleeds her precious words
In an attempt to extract you from within
While her soul sighs with practiced longing
For the vibrant muse that rescued the drowning poet
– Martie xx
Words always failed her when she tried to put her happiness to paper — pain, sorrow and lostness always had a more natural flow as it poured with ease from her fingertips, a comfortable world where she knew all the dark corners of her inner demons; of her sputtering heart and dead emotions.
She does not know all the ins and outs of this newfound world of hers, where each day is as mesmerising and bright as a firework show — forever changing and expanding. Laughter now bubbles to her lips each day without effort, filling her up as she dares to walk blindly further into the spectacular show of colours, people and the unknown.
Where black holes and numbness recided seedlings of life have taken deep roots, gradually expanding their territory, banishing the dark with a stubborn ferocity.
She has stopped questioning her smiles, the easy arrival of her laugh, her whims and feelings — she still doesn’t understand them, and suspects she never will — instead she’s learned to let them out, let them fly. She has stopped pretending like she knows where she’s going; she threw away her broken compass that could never stop spinning in vicious self destructive circles, and dared to find her own road through trial and error — she is still wandering.
A sensation of unbearable lightness has enveloped her as her wings rest against the soft surface of a white cloud above — with crossed legs she stares down at the faraway cities, the people she’ll never meet but still wish happiness upon, trying to decide where she’ll go next. The question remains unanswered, so for tonight she’ll take to the stars as she awaits the sunrise — as she awaits a soft breeze that will guide her to strangers with vibrant hearts; her next adventure.
– Martie xx