It would be when the air would feel like silk or like the hues were almost brighter.
It was when the hills felt lower and the low felt lighter.
In the speckles of day when I would sing to the tune of another’s brass,
Somehow my daydreams would still hold a conversation with you.
You’d saunter in with kindness and class;
The kind of attitude that sometimes I wish I had.
Your tone and diction were hard to imagine,
They lacked the luster and the passion.
They were all the corridors to every phrase.
They were all the oddities I wanted to praise.
I can feel the wax melt from my wings with just the thought of knowing you in abundance.
You are a Sun to my sand with a depth I should never learn.
You’re a distance that feels relaxed and at a level I could never convince.
At your hand would I bloom into my hyacinth petals or would my roots begin to rot?
Would I compliment your warmth by offering a place to rest or would my minerals begin to harden into a glass for my next cathedral?
It’s necessity the keeps the unknown locked in a mental maze that which I have mending to wrought.
Still, my stargazing will end when I fall.
Those feathers left to remind me of how little about you I’ve ever actually known;
And yet how bittersweet to imagine having ever flown.

she is lost but she does not crave to be found.
her world went quiet but she accepted it cause in some sick and destructive way it brought her peace and she felt safe in her own madness.
And although her days are full of tears and anguish... she cant picture herself ever getting out of this labyrinth of suffering she trapped herself in.
this is her silent punishment.

in the blink of an eye, you kept decaying.
lost in space, and no one can help you.
everything in front has morphed like free desert sand,
with some praying to stay as sandcastles because of
a gust that only prides of insignificance, and is clever.
but they deemed it puny, and we dealt with their mistakes.

so we had to run to a labyrinth of terrifying ends.
you had no choice but to move further, away - alone
but to move was to be tickled by the dust devil,
and to stay was to mope in killing silence.
you leapt into both worlds in shifts -
to suffice yourself, even while stuck in the labyrinth.

every day was a mobius strip, and it stretched into months
of moving, of staying, and of waiting
until you discovered a sandcastle on one end.
it had veins of wear, but you tried to keep it *****.
lost in time, but you can help you.
and in the blink of an eye, you kept living.

If one
is to see
with smoke,

the farthest
they can go is
at the surface

If one
is to see
with mirrors,

the labyrinth
of the inside
can never be harnessed

A child's smile
A cup of tea
A walk in the woods
A fleeting sense of serenity
An eruption of joy
Happiness
A magic moment
in the labyrinth
of our existence

❝ a man curses his self-created hell;
   a trap he weaved for himself
   that later on evolved
   into a labyrinth of intricate design

   his choices,
   the basis of his sorrow
   a product of ignorance
   that drowns him
   in the ocean of confusion

   he becomes lost
   in the prison of darkness
   floating in the sea
   of perpetual gloom

   searching for the light
   with eyes open
   but senses shut
   stumbling about for eons
   and eons

   blaming fate,
   God,
   circumstances,
   but never himself ❞