divided,
undecided,
trying to hide it;
struggling.

the composer, the symphony
the poet, the poetry
the artist, the masterpiece

the poet
is no poetry.
the artist
is no masterpiece.

the instrument,
until played,
carries no melody.

these conflicting qualities
could never meet.

~

quiet, stolen brightness
oh, it doesn't belong to me
but this sky is your black ceiling,
I'm just trying to be seen
and I see you-
I see you-
I see you shying away, yes
every few days, there's less,
every month the same cycle,
over and over again
and you don't know
how much is too much
and you don't know
when you'll be enough
and you're stuck
cutting those pieces
and you struggle
to bring them back
back to largeness,
back to circular-
insecurity,
phases of the moon,

and the Sun does smirk
in the morning blue.