Life

Sometimes it eavesdrops  

And leaves sympathetic tears

on a flower

that opens its deepest thoughts

to a fellow bud

Sometimes it finds a vast, quiet spot

free of rocky mountains of troubles

and stands alone

to exhale the day away

Sometimes it needs

To build its own warmth

Blaze a hearth 

with the spark of a relaxed grin

Sometimes it jealously crashes

To steal the air’s attention

Away from the perfect sun

Most of the time, it just needs

 an uncaptured moment

For its dreams to run

All photos courtesy of http://www.morguefile.com

Inside

Inside

Inside 

an oven closed

Baked emotions

Burned by the lack of attention

It didn’t want anyway

Now all that's left

is the taste of grey 

and the smoky odor of what the fire left

The fire

That was never dealt with

They've come to make sense

Of the ashes

But breath can not exist here

And nothing familiar

Is there to be recognized

There is nothing fancy

Floating within the cloudy room

Just smoldered dreams

On the glitter-free, 

now sparkless earth

No valuable remnants

To find the sky

And show their worth

A buried heart

Can not grow

And the one who owned it

Only wanted to give it away

Or trade it for freedom

But the heat was too much
untouchable

and it became ashes scattered

Before it met the air

It died

Without ever having lived

It’s all gone

Or is it?

Is it possible for what never was

To be gone or go?

I’d like to think so