I'm a vow of silence,

                               that sings within.

Void less consciousness,

                 that grows between

the cracks.



Woven in bloodied tears,

              yet my features are
  parched like a desert wind.



I'm an illusion of self,
             cradled in the arms


of my own self doubt.

I'm lead lined
        but you always


see through me.


My secrets concealed
                beneath me.


But you will always
                   see within me.


I never want to hide anything
       from you, I'm lead lined.



But you always see what others cant.

Collapsing emotions
            corrode on my
          ****** perfection.

What was diminishing,
   now collecting in a cup
            of palmed hands collected.


I wanted to no that of your
               miracles,
                            that even
though tears fell,
you never turned

            those now memory to a wine
                         of hope...

Auschwitz was a million
                  tears choked,
but you never turned
a single tear
               to a vintage of peace.


We just choked on the tears,
     and we were a vineyard
                         of silence.


Each a grape that never reached
               maturity.

Instead we fell before we could become
              more that we were.
These tears are sour,
and the taste
                erodes every fallen tears morality.

We were so detached from the others
our voices sore and aching from the cosmic conversations which had before cluttered our minds but now dripped from our tongues like water on the leaking tap.
You and I, the explorers of this monolithic place,
where the inertia of it's inhabitants had spread like wildfire
we were the resistance.

I still hadn't really dealt with my sadness
it's funny how your feelings can sometimes swallow you up
whole
without any real logic behind it
that really was power of thought.
I created this vision of you and I
and saw the future in my mind's eye
but we both know that never came to pass
you saw something different and chose another path -
and that's totally okay
because somethings are just not meant to be
although I saw it differently
for you and me.

I can't just write without purpose
that would be too easy
and I definitely couldn't write about you again
the subject of all my thoughts -
my entire content -
the centre of it all.
This time
this time, they say, it will be different
we will rewrite our stories with something new and unimaginable
this time
this time.

I remember the period
Of rich, suffocating gloom
That I've written of
Millions of times before.
But more than that
I remember when
Flowers bloomed
And I laughed for the first time
In two months.
I wish I could remember
What was so funny
Or with whom I was so content.
But I remember
That the feeling
Inside of me
Was dangerously wonderful.
So I promised
Right then
To never go a day
Without a giggle
Or two
Again.

- p. winter