I wasn’t prepared to take it on- I wasn’t cut throat enough- To strike with the blade, faster- You held so much on my shoulders- If I didn’t deliver- I wasn’t going to survive through- The fall to the gaping anger below- If love was blood- I bled it all over- So much of it, I drowned myself- And choked on it- Then that feeling kicked in, when I was laying low- Holding secrets in a trailer behind my smile- I wasn’t happy- I wasn’t standing here buying coffee- I wasn’t in the bookstore- I wasn’t talking to my roommate- I just passed the butter- And kept my eyes on my plate- Then I knew it- I know- If it was heard- Or felt- Spoken- Seen or even gestured to- Alluded too- I know- It hangs in silence- Maybe somewhere above me- Maybe somewhere near me- I know- I hear it, its sometimes painful- Beautiful or indescribable- But now I see it- And I know it- Even if I don’t want it- It knows, that I know it- And I’ll never be released- Until I write it- It’s in the eyes of the old woman- The man crossing the street- The singer singing religious hymns at the train station- The old fishermen- The police officer chasing down...that...criminal- How the pictures move on the canvas- Lightning erratically casting violent shadows- Flowers growing wildly from the paper- Every brush stroke says something- Has a meaning- Has a meaning- I have meaning- I was still and quiet- I could see the colors now- With out you- You could live outside life- But its colors will always- Remind you- Your the instrument, and the muse-Birth sign: Libra
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