love speakeasy

While people breathe in wisps of smoke, I choke, exhale a floor of nails. 

And when we sing at this hour’s wake, we sing through the pain, we scream to be heard only by ourselves, we wait patiently for the morning’s sun, for light to suck dry the loneliness of darkness. 

 I find myself constantly at times like these, when no light shines on beauty for me to see and the only beauty I can reflect on is my own.  And sometimes it is so hard to find, when nostalgia pulls on my hair and I wag my foreign tongue on times I miss, or times I regret. 

But that opportunity is where the mountains are, far from sight and beyond my capability to climb. 

I wish to plant a flower incapable of being destructed by man’s darkness, a seed that will remain innocent till the day death takes life from it.  But I know I am crying for dreams built on clouds.