She was a dark cloud
that struck me over and over
anytime
I was not what she planned.
He was a storm
wreaking havoc over me
leaving me standing in the rain
clinging to the sun
that never stayed.
So I am not used to
constant sunshine
no cloudy days
and good weather.
But I want to get used to it.

i have not written a word of him-
since that moment i finally (reluctantly) let you cloud my mind over what i thought was my sunshine.

i thought you were the clouds ruining my day,
however, he was the clouds, blocking the blinding light that you knew i needed most.

i realize now that you are the brightest sunlight i have ever seen.
that your constant warmth and radiance enveloping me is the most powerful illuminator i will ever have.

i used to think that tall halogen lamp added a nice touch to my living room, until i found a more modern stainless steel one to replace it with instead. and even then, i allowed a crystal chandelier to hang from my ceiling. but none of them compare to the light i found hidden behind those clouds.

occasionally, i will have a rainy day where the old clouds form again and block my view of your sunshine. on those days, i feel like drowning in a puddle of my own tears and i tend to drown you too. i form imaginary clouds to try and block you out.

yet somehow, even when the thunderstorms roll in, you manage to clear them away and give me a rainbow.

you are God's Promise to me that the sun will always shine, and no matter how hard i try to cover you up, you always will be there waiting for me.

and i will bask in the sunlight forever <3

In the black, humid tunnels of clouded vision
where pipers are paid to hush calamity
and the souls of skeletons adhere to forbidden
pushing whispers of thought's public opinion.

The alluring alley of cowardly escapades
alters narrow minds and their sinuous route
like bipolar magnets fluxing compass charades,
coordinates spin during times of solitude.

To dampen the thunder in mental basements
brewing like home-kit craft beers,
the lightning strikes and fear laments
after an ****** of resentment.

Floating days lifted in flight by birdsong,
waiting upon an evaporating cloud
of time and its passing, its trail leaving so soon.

How do I feel on a cloudy day?
Stinging eyes and stained regret,
things that in the Sun I do not fret
about or for.

A staring Sun's gaze burns so softly
upon a man walking the path
towards ever approaching melancholy.

she was a heron,flying
under pale,
)
blackened fields of reeds

she was a mallard,floating
under pale,
)
overcast fields of green.

“sway, sunlight,”she pined,
“stay”.

Your breaths have turned to
moaning sighs,
your truths to lies,
and your thoughts to outcries.

Why are you so surprised?
After all,
cloudy minds lead to
misty eyes.


m.e.