I feel the skipping fragile beats so softly
Pounding strong so loudly
Sinking into the hollow depths of the well
Faster than a full sturdy
Falling metal bucket
Tied to a huge rope
Snapped on the surface
Listening to it
In more pieces
Than the smallest shards of glass.
When you look straight at me on the outside,
You can’t see the clouds blacker than my pupils
Collecting all the freezing vapors.
You can’t hear a bawl of thunder
Or even see a whimpering mist.
You can’t even see them well up
In the middle of the storm.
You can only see the unmoved emotions
Within the unscathed glass on the windows.
You can only see the windows are dry
Because they didn’t shed a single drop.
But if you could look straight inside of me,
You’d see I’m drowning in the cold flash flood
Trying to survive this blustering storm
Trying to gather the pieces of my broken debris
As it tries to fuse emotions in me
Others will be able to see on the outside
Beyond the empty frozen silence.
It still is
As I now feel the near overflow of the well
As the windows begin to scathe
As they grow warmer and wetter
As I begin to feel emotionally moved
As I finish writing this
Before starting to sprinkle whimpering mists
Before they start to pour bawls of thunder…