They’re trying to hide in the weather,
Behind warm mists and bitter frosts
And rain on the lens of my glasses.
They’re trying to hide under my fingernails,
And walls of stressed, red brick
Decorated with black and blue shadows.
They’re trying to hide behind my eyelids,
Locked and sealed up tight,
Doors to a world I’m too afraid to open.
Question from Michael Clark from Facebook
Clouds taste like journeys,
Travels and memories of
Places they’ve been before.
Evaporation,
Water dying from the heat,
Heading heavenward.
Condensation, the
Droplets come together like,
Soft, cold, sad choirs.
Precipitation,
The weight of emotion makes
Them want to fall back.
Fall back to the earth,
Recycled as rivers, seas
And oceans from raindrops.
But sometimes, they’re lost,
Dripping onto your tongue to
Hydrate and help you.
Then lost forever,
Lost in a thoughtless moment,
Tasting like sadness.
Question from my best friend and favourite kitten, Courtney G
Mxcellany - Poetry, Music, Art 