
Notwithstanding
by Maverick.214
Notwithstanding the test of time,
Not without the loves of my life;
I am being sorely suffocated from a distance by hands
wearing bitter gloves of punishment.
A falling snowflake found a spot in my heart,
reminding me of past sins and unfortunate crime.
The cold I can ignore,
The distance I can close in my mind,
but the sounds of a temple bell resonating ripples from prior lives stir darker emotions.
I walk along the edge of my shadow,
wondering if I know who I am really following
for I cannot be distracted if I am to seek a few answers to many questions.
Bereft am I, senseless and heartbroken as I expected more.
Noteworthy ideas are kept in a jar,
Newsworthy adventures are without an audience;
I am unsure in quivering ways if I can be true to my dreams or end them by an act of treason,
fearing the simplicity of a difficult discourse.
A ray of light peeked from my soul,
blinding my vision of all things near and far.
Then I awoke one morning on a crowded subway.
A curious woman smiled at me as I shuffled my briefcase
between my legs, and I smiled back.
We said nothing, exchanging only awkward glances
as she watched snowflakes collect within my eyes.
What tears I cannot feel running down my face,
What feelings I cannot grasp between my lungs,
and all that I cannot bury are often seen by strangers every day.
by Maverick.214
Notwithstanding the test of time,
Not without the loves of my life;
I am being sorely suffocated from a distance by hands
wearing bitter gloves of punishment.
A falling snowflake found a spot in my heart,
reminding me of past sins and unfortunate crime.
The cold I can ignore,
The distance I can close in my mind,
but the sounds of a temple bell resonating ripples from prior lives stir darker emotions.
I walk along the edge of my shadow,
wondering if I know who I am really following
for I cannot be distracted if I am to seek a few answers to many questions.
Bereft am I, senseless and heartbroken as I expected more.
Noteworthy ideas are kept in a jar,
Newsworthy adventures are without an audience;
I am unsure in quivering ways if I can be true to my dreams or end them by an act of treason,
fearing the simplicity of a difficult discourse.
A ray of light peeked from my soul,
blinding my vision of all things near and far.
Then I awoke one morning on a crowded subway.
A curious woman smiled at me as I shuffled my briefcase
between my legs, and I smiled back.
We said nothing, exchanging only awkward glances
as she watched snowflakes collect within my eyes.
What tears I cannot feel running down my face,
What feelings I cannot grasp between my lungs,
and all that I cannot bury are often seen by strangers every day.
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