My thoughts rise with the night
and you are the secret glow within
from where the light of these words flow
your sensibilities, your solitariness
the scars in your heart,
raw, ruthless, lingering
like the breath of a storm
that eases no tide against
the expanse of slumber, sorrow, or hope.
There are times I can’t grasp the strength of your prose
but then, no sky is bereft of its beautiful lightning
even the stars have become more captivating
when shining above the metaphor of your passions.
Still, I would want nothing
more than to see you heal,
lose the impulse that leads to your fall in spirit
as your sentiments and stories grow incandescent
when you walk between the streets of love and pain.
– geena, january 2016