Do you ever find a picture of yourself from years ago and think, “My god - who is that?” For a writer, that same thing happens when they find a piece of writing.
“Hands and Eyes” Did you know that you kick up stardust in your wake with every breath you take? Yeah, you probably knew that, But did you know that I’m always right behind you Catching that stardust To put underneath my pillow at night? Yeah, I used to sleep on my hands, but take a look at them now. They tremble. And I don’t want my heart to tremble like this so… Did you know that you cast a forever sunset long shadow on the ground? Yeah, you probably knew that too, But did you know that I’m always using that shadow to hide away from the world? Yeah, I used to bask in the sun, but take a look at my eyes. They’re all burned out. And I don’t want my heart to burn like this, so… There was a time that we had everything, You with your eternal glory and me with my heaps of admiration, We were infinite. Or at least, I thought we were. Because ‘forever’ turned out to be the greatest calamity of our time, And ‘infinity?’ That just ended up being the amount of time it takes to carve a sideways figure 8 into the ice. Because you slipped a goodbye through the crack under my door and left it there for me to find. So how can I pay you back in kind For sending a tremor through my already trembling hands And incinerating my already burned-out eyes? Your voice fills my mind with cries of remembrance. Cruelty in its most malicious form is the inability to forget. But I don’t need to forget. I just need to heal. And so you might find me at the gym, Trying desperately to break a sweat To remind my heart how much it needs to exercise(exorcise) The demons that you rained down on the halls of my insides Like a monsoon that has never ended. Or else I might be out at sea, Trying desperately to keep the water below my neck To remind my lungs how much they need to breathe Life back into the corpse that you left behind Like a genius crook that could get away with any crime. But through all of this? The whispered melody of the symphony that you and I used to write together still tickles my ears. And so I’ve come to learn that there is no cure for trembling hands. No amount of water can douse these burning eyes. But I’ve still got my feet. So, when the dawn comes knocking at my door, I’ll be able to walk forward into its widespread open arms, Even if this time, I keep my hands balled up And my eyes, safely shut away.