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Some nights I sit in silence
Talking to sadness, basking in it
Surprised in the beauty of her secrets
How easy she slips between.
There's but the mechanical
Noise breaking the pressing heat
Of an untouched room
Craving for movement
Dreadfully deserved, by a lifetime
So far gone.
It starts when I return
To a room of broken chords
And allow the fallen pieces
Mark the edge of my skin
A burning rod that forms
Mostly in its absence.
How it shapes by numbers
Mattresses finding masters
Cards with free letters
For wordless travelers.
Until there grows tenderness
Ripe against my tongue
Familiar to the emptiness
Tireless against the void--
Granting stillness,
A calendar of Fireworks,
Rested sleep.
- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines
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