The Sky Is Blue

I looked up at the bright blue sky. It was moving in the wind, you could see it in the clouds. My mother and I used to believe that groups of angels used clouds to disguise themselves so they could watch us from heaven. I didn't really know my opinion anymore, since my mother died, everything had changed. Whether it was from the way the house seemed or how we acted anymore.

My father had been doing drugs and I had cut myself completely off from the world. I spent most of my time looking at the sky, thinking. My father called it a waste of time, but he was just being a hypocrite. I would spend time in rain or sunshine laying in the grass.  

It was just a comfort to me to have something hug me. Whether it was grass or the breeze, I knew I was not alone. I somehow felt my mother there. My father also thought this was insane, as he told me everyday.

"Mother is long gone, you damned child. Your mother is not coming back whether or not you sit outside. I can't believe you in believe in shit like that. God forbid that you think that you can bring her back. I have such a hard, shitty life, I  don't need to worry about you either."

That was the last conversation me and my father had had, so as you can see, his opinions on me thinking were not so positive. But I didn't come outside just because I thought it might bring my mother back. I went to the grass pasture because it was a place where I could think and just be alone. It was a place where I didn't think that death was right around the corner. I of course, had thought of going to heaven with my mother all the time. My father wouldn't seem to miss me. But something kept me on the earth.

I always thought that maybe it was the daisies, but now as it began to sprinkle and the dark clouds rolled in, I didn't really think so. I started to remember what my mother said about rain. She said that it was the world mourning for tragedy. But it didn't cry when my mother died. And if that wasn't a devestating tragedy, then what the fuck was? 

You could say that I am angry with God, but in my opinion it's okay. I never even got a chance to say goodbye. I loved her. I loved God too, and I suspected that someday I would make peace. But my heart was breaking each and everyday and I only felt more alone.

The bright blue sky was a statement, but with a sigh, it made me feel somewhat calm.

Till Death Do You Part

There is a small place in this world,

where a valley lays.

It is has a village with a few houses,

and a few trees at the top.

I live there,

and I wait.

Everyone waits.

They wait for a better year, a better day, or a piece of bread to keep from going hungry.

None of these ever occur.

They call it a healing process, and to be patient.

But each day I look at the horizon waiting for that better year, and it never seems to appear.

I catch fish, and walk by the lake, and climb a tree, but that horizon never has anything coming over it.

I hope and hope and hope.

Now I am hopeless.

I am also speechless.

I can no longer speak my mind or uncover my thoughts, for I am still waiting for that better year.

I have not parted yet, but I am still waiting.

I am waiting in that valley, with a few houses and a few trees, looking for the better days.

Death has not grasped me, not until that better year.

But I have been sitting and looking forever,

and my skin has wrinkled, as well as my life.

I am persistent on those better days, but I don't know when it will come.

Maybe today, tomorrow or in 1000 years.

Till death do I part, I will look for that missing better day.

Inspirations

Summer came. Her freckles matched her heart, a different and unique object. Young is what we are, so we jumped holding hands, always together. I sang London Bridges Falling Down. We beat gravity. We were the music. If we could fly, this would be it. The chorus of our lives never got old, so how could this?

Lonesome at Day

Fall was here and everything seemed so alone. Winter was already bringing the cold. I walked outside and sat underneath the red maple tree. The leaves swished up, putting me at peace. I wished this moment would never end. She was gone and the air had not passed. It was time to heal. I would miss the skies. My heart dropped for a minute and I finally started to breathe. I flowed like a river at last.

Conflicted

My spirits lifted. I danced on the rooftop, and suddenly stopped. I screamed to the sky, asking why. Nothing seemed to survive anymore. I looked over the 10 stories, and 'smack' came to mind. It was no longer a matter of time, because I had no time left. My mind was conflicted and my heart burned with fury. No one cared anymore. It was bright and the wind blew without a purpose, just like me. I stepped to the edge and spread out my arms like peter pan. My eyes closed.

              I fell again, for the last time.

At The Edge

On the edge of this world there is a window. And at this window there is a life. A life that is misunderstood as it watches time go by. It seems that this life on the outside has everything perfect, but as it gets deeper it has been crushed and has fell.

It is surrounded by darkness, and the dark can be scary and lonely. No one can rescue you or so it seems. It is like an endless tunnel.

The betrayal in the life's eyes were so true. It seemed like everything was a lie, or was it? Each word that played through the life's mind was carefully analyzed. Cautious and self destructive this life was.

The people in the middle of the earth could not get the life's feelings. People judged and rejected, and so the shack with the window on the edge of the world walls where that life stayed.

The life would curl up and die for hours. Then the life plastered on a face like a poster girl, and walked into the city of lies. 

The life didn't belong there. I t didn't really belong anywhere.

Smaller~

I looked up at the sky and remembered what I once was. I thought back to the time of happiness, and hand picked flowers. The pink dress flounced in every direction as I skipped through the garden. A fence was too high to climb over and a stone was an island in the water. A place, where you could escape. Now, I wish I was that small in the woods. Where my laughs echoed.