Beautiful Angels…

She stood and watched the stars as they glowed brightly.

In a thousand worlds, she wished I was there with her

yet in this life, I was… my presence wasn’t just felt.

Crimson blue the sky lighted beautifully,

but burning tears still created a stream down her face.

It was over before I could say, but she still looked like an Angel.

Words weren’t enough for comfort,

emotions were to real to deal with, and the pain felt… was to real to comprehend.

Yet as memories crawled in,

she stood by and watched the stars as they glowed brightly.

Day 3/52.

life happens… is it funny if I confessed that sometimes I feel moved and touched by own pieces 🤔😂🙈 As in, sometimes I feel like I didn’t author a piece, that someone else, and in a way, got me caught up in their life, made me feel their pain, their feelings, every single bit of agony they go through. (don’t mistake me for that person, for that is the purpose of poetry, to keep a reader engaged, and moved.)

Well, about a month or two ago I tried placing myself in the shoes of a broken hearted young man that was so in love, almost blinded by it. Well, isn’t that the joy and purpose of love? to be blinded with it’s craziness, meet someone that you’ll either grow with, or one who’ll break u?!? Probably she’d have been quite an Angel in his life, her crimson looks, crescent smile, finely dimpled face, and cute laughter could have moved him quite more than often. Perhaps he’d have known her for a short period of time, or may be longer, but… may be she’d turned him over into a new leaf, something he hadn’t expected. May be she’d been that needle in a huge chunk of haystack that he’d landed upon unexpectedly, only for it to turn out as that jewel he’d searched for all his life. May be she’d meant a lot to him much more than she realized.

I’ve never stopped reading this piece since. Every once in a while I feel like what if I were that guy, what if she woke one day and told me it’s all over? what if it were you, what alternative would you take as you watched someone you loved so dearly walk out on you, and you can do nothing to stop them for you know they’ve already made up their minds, and nothing you can do can change that? well, this one always gives me the creeps to check my brakes again😁 in no way would I want to crash terribly like that, but then… pain demands to be felt, and so is love, that is the untainted law of nature, how we make it through, gets to determine the kind of ladies and gentlemen we get to be after it’s all over, when we’ve gone through the whole process.

A month or two later after writing this piece, in a way, it all feels like I was talking to myself, and it made me realize one important context we may not realize about poetry, it’s trans-generational, it crosses various wavelengths to survive time, and if it doesn’t? well it’s because it’s not good poetry. Every writing we make, every piece we jot down, has to cross over, it’s a relationship we so build as poets, between our pens, papers, the reader and our feelings. It’s how we want the message we write to reah quite a numerous audience.