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Sleep naar de juiste positie
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knyk

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  • 01-01-70
  • Leven in United Kingdom

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knyk
Vertalen   12 jaren geleden

#poem #1 Tonight we forget the places we've been Playing dead with old emotions Sealing fates that have long since been delivered To the past we salute And pretend like it is out of a sense of pride But the truth is concealed in the kisses we steal And if lips sink ships Then the battles been lost Leaves crumble beneath our feet Like the after math of a ticker-tape parade Thrown to celebrate an enemies defeat While we fake our way through a game of charades And if yesterday's all that matters I can't believe in today I'll put all my fears in you And the keepsake you hold can't be thrown away With the twist of the wind Directions and destinations change Though the journey remains the same All these hour glasses have to empty their sand And the time wasn't spent like we planned My escape comes from the sorrow You've managed to let through Like tiny cracks in the ceiling, That leak tears Long held back Our you prouder than before Striking out in every direction Like waves of light caught in the horizon

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    knyk profile picture
    knyk
    Vertalen   12 jaren geleden

    The Night We Slept The door slammed and her footsteps could be heard echoing away. Silence reigned over the front porch as the darkness etched itself all around. Moonlight had a weakness for this darkness and choose not to challenge the night. This made the journey home for Malik all the more treacherous. He was a slight man with brown hair and dull blue eyes. Like a shirt that had been run through the washer one to many times. Although he was only 29 people could easily mistake him for a man in his mid 40s. Of course this was no fault of his own as the weight of living had simply overwhelmed him from an early age. Though not immediately obvious, given the constant facade he cast towards anyone foolish enough to try to observe his true nature, one could steal glimpses of his suffering if they laid in wait long enough. Malik was walking the stoned pathway that had become all to known to his slightly tattered pair of brown shoes. The worn out shoes seemed to match his hair color and his personality. Overused, stretching out at all sides and an apparent lack of sole. The bottoms of these shoes touched the ground with a heaviness, as if lifting up each time for its last gasp of air before the cold, murky water swallows you whole. Malik was not a proud man, as this had been evident just a few minutes earlier. When he mistakingly uttered the words that caused that bulky red door to be slammed shut so abruptly. Although, not proud, like many men of his elk, he knew his place and did not stand around waiting for the door to be reopened and forgiveness to be showered upon him. As forgiveness was not something he expected nor sought, "forgiveness is for those who've forgotten their place" he would often remark. So he walked and as his shadow became one with the emerging darkness, a soft light came beaming through the night striking the back of shoulders like warm rays on a beach. Malik stricken by paralysis froze but only for moment as he knew hesitation was the downfall of the weak. He pushed on and ignored the guiding light that would lead him to comfort and warmth, instead choosing the darkness that now consumed him.

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