It's quiet now.
I used to relish in the noises of the night.
Yelling. Music. The sound of hundreds of feet shuffling around one another to find someone to make their own.
And even then I would think, all this noise, all these meaningless gestures hidden by noise.
Then I heard your voice.
Like a deafening roar among a million whispers, I heard your voice. The only noise I ever heard louder than yours came soon after, and it was only a few feet off the ground.
From that moment forward, I couldn't do anything without those particular noises present around me. Couldn't sleep, eat, think. I needed the sounds of laughter, of pouting, of disagreement, of debate, of singing from the heart, I love you songs. They were masterpieces of sound. Nothing in the world ever sounded so beautiful. A request for chocolate milk, or a demand for five more minutes of sleep from either of those composers is pure ecstasy.
Nothing makes any noise after that.

A plane on an asteroid, carrying one thousand drummers, each yelling in chaos, smashing into the center of your eardrum, could never drown out a sound like that. The whole earth becomes a muted paradise when you have sounds like theirs. But...it's quiet now. I have to force myself to hear anything. From the pulse of own heart, to the rain dancing on the window sill. Seconds, minutes,and hours go by and I can't help but notice.
It's quiet now.

And two days later,
the taste and smell of your skin;
senses still aroused.

If I had to wait a while
I would
but time would linger for so long
I feel I'd turn to stone.

Put my back to the place
I learned to call my home.

If I had to run for miles
I would
but I feel like I'd get farther
if I could
somehow shake the weight of
my foundation.

The echo of a flawed creation.

Recollections of uncertain
shrouded misinterpretations.

Should I go or should I stay?

Set down my feet or fly away
into the depths
of my own introversion?

I'm cemented in submersion.

i sometimes hope
that i plague your mind
as often as you take over my own

because you are the only
consistent thought i have

and though youve become
more like a stain than a memory

ill never wash myself again
as long as your imprint
remains on my body

little things
consumes nearly the whole of our soul....
storms...blizzards....draughting one's hopes...
in the midst of all the chaos
little things survive...
their essence resonating our minds ...
reminding us of His presence...
the storms will pass....
the giants may fall....
but wading through them all...
little elements of joy linger.

Your scent still lingers
On my jacket
It's been a week
Yet your still lingering
On my sleeve
Did you really hug me that much
Or did I just hug you too tightly
Because I knew it was goodbye
For a little while

We collided like a train rushing in from behind,
Your memory and I.
My breath stuck in my throat, unexpectedly.
Tears stinging my eyes, staining my cheeks, involuntarily.
Has your ghost been lingering, shadowed,
Waiting to spring upon me like a serpent in the grass?
Don't tempt me with that shattered past.
I'd gladly place the shards of history's heart back into your hands.
Blatantly disregarding every reserve my mind fires,
Happily risking it all just to taste our youth.
Begone with you phantom! If that's what you are.
Stay only if your monstrosity lingers well into our future.