notes for the beaten

the dust settles,

in the stagnant veins of your soul

and soon the spiders will

leave their webs

to find new home - then what will be left of you?

on a night like this,

i stand with my feet buried in the moist brown of the earth

and embrace the logic

that quicksand is merely an aid for the people who have given up

to disappear is a very easy achievement.

i take a step forward

and break the hold binding me to the grasp of the ground,

to disappear is a very easy achievement,

but what do i really achieve,

if i cease to exist?

the dust settles,

in the tire of your mind,

and i appreciate how fear has matted your eyes,

singing its lifeless songs as they were once my own to sing

and i stare into a rendition i know so well

listen to a masterpiece that once sounded its discordance within me.

hello again, dear friend

i remember you, and what you made me feel. 

why are you back, and residing so comfortably 

in the home of my love?

the scars differ, yours and mine, his and hers, theirs and ours.

but every dent has its purpose,

etched by similar thoughts, similar reasoning - or lack of.

our energies rise and fall in phase,

like how your negatives will never stray far from mine,

but it is our perceptions that enhance us.

we prolong each emotion as we age,

losing the ability to restore balance,

the way a child would when she cries over scraped knees 

then proceeds to fill her lungs with laughter

when her sister pulls a funny face.

so just as easily, your positivity will not stray from my own,

and i give you

through every kiss, every thought,

every touch,

every sleeping and waking moment,

the positive energy burning and birthing on the pinnacle of my entire being

and i will in turn,

caress and cradle the negatives surging out from you,

catching them as they plummet,

to restore whatever balance the world is missing from me and from you.

it is alright to embrace 

and take what life has to offer,

in all its entirety,

because choice can be such a selfish thing sometimes,

in such an open field of everything and nothing, don’t you think?

take a leap

with arms wide open;

somebody, somewhere

will always reach out.