Poetry | Stories | Photography
When there was nothing left to say, no words worth speaking, those times were the loudest.
You lived in the noise of it all, trying to find the quiet places and spaces for you, yourself.
When you spoke, the words wouldn’t come out and you found that there’s no relief.
Sweet ethereal
feelings of bygones
moving through
your musical days.
To the string,
jumping in the air,
knocking over porcelain.
In early light,
as trees move slow,
we sit tight.
We move foward in time,
then we rewind the tape.
Emotion takes hold.
You linger looking towards the waterless sea.
