I keep words unspoken,
Letters uncombined,
A theme unwritten.

I write words through moments,
Creating memories,
Leaving a past that lasts.

I profusely give silence,
To those whom try to convey,
And now a loner in a glass fence.

Allergic to socializing,
I keep mine emotions from expressing,
And I retain the evidence of longing.

I keep my days short of being social,
And keep peoples ****** lies distant,
Not famous cause am always Local.

Writing
In the hour of the after life
As the candle burns
Fingers are numb
Ink is dry
A feathered pen ruined
On ashless paper
Exposing uncombined thoughts
Of revision
How can this be?
The words I look upon
Carefully
A sentence so unfinished
Quenching  for more expressions
In which I cannot find
A performance in the house of tongues
From an encore of a lapping lexis
As the dead poet rise
To be saved

As we grew

We grew apart

a perfect picture

abstract art

where we once were intertwined

our lives now were uncombined

"Wake me up, I must be sleeping. I lay in bed dreaming. Dreams of Life and Death, images invade my head.  When I wake I'll be dead. There will be nothing left."

She sits in a room of silence, to ease her mind.
There her brain can slow down, stop and rewind.
She falls back in to time.

"As the world shifts, time swallows her inch by inch."

Future, Present, Past
She relapse
Start to finish, First to last
Again she goes walking through time.
She steps up to the line.
Watching her life uncombined.
An invitation of no decline.
She faces her life.

Like olive oil and vinegar, we swirled.  
Close but now remaining uncombined.

When my eyes shut,
yours opened.

The sun set, and you thought of me.
The sun rose, and I thought of you.
But neither of us dared to shake the bottles again once more.

We once moved in fluid motion.
We were near,
then changed course.

𝐴𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑
𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

A memory of a sweet tarantella dance duo

Stepping clockwise
Then counterclockwise.

Looping, skipping,
dripping, flipping,
tossing, turning.

Eventually spinning with a joy
bordered on pain.

I do recall an emulsifier.
(A time we stirred)
The moment the vibrations
𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑃𝑃𝐸𝐷

In perfect unison…

In that moment a sudden hold.

For.
one.
trembling.
second.

The precious oil
was genuine.

The steps slowly continued.
And our eyes locked on one another.

There was a chance to bridge.
A chance to drift with the stirs.  
To find beauty not in stillness,
but in the motion itself.
In the quiet chemistry
Of adding additions;
Molecules bearing both
hydrophilic and hydrophobic ends.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑝.

We took our seats.
At different checker patterned tables.

I take one more bite of bread.
A final taste
before dabbing my lips.

All that can be done now is to add salt
…to cut the acid…

And to realize that some molecules
are only meant to float in suspension.
Never meant to truly bond.

-AK