BrokenYou have found me, lying on the floorBroken by Maylar
beaten and bruised, broken inside
naked and tender to touch, in pain
not even crying anymore
Sob or two, a whimper in dream,
that's how much you get from me
in these times...used, abused,
my soul is hiding for a while,
there's nothing on my face,
except twitches of broken smiles.
You put the mirror in front of my face
to see if I breathe...I open my eyes,
finding the similar pair looking at me,
in need...I close them again.
Dark is so much closer to oblivion.
But your touch is mild and gentle
while you call me back...
and all I feel is the urge to somehow
squeeze myself into your embrace
and sleep there, feeling sheltered and safe...
not that it is going to happen,
it's just one more dream.
The figment of my imagination,
a vapor from tears perspiration, you are,
nothing more than my desire...
when I wake up, you are gone in puff of smoke.
I'm still lying on the floor, all alone,
deserted toy, broken inside, pieces missing...
Life is full of mystery, intuition, emotion, and corner-of-the-eye glimpses of things we don't understand. Even our hearts are hidden, their motion unseen. Through hours of contemplation I seek to capture the shadows and light flickering over life as it dances, tracing the wind. |
Art is like a whisper in the wind. By the time it is received it has tangled with mystery in flight and shares secrets this artist never knew.
And if you find nothing worth seeing here, you will find it somewhere. I am not the only one who captures passing gleams of light and feels the silent breath of wind. Perhaps in my next work you might recognize the mystery, because I will never stop learning to draw it into focus.