scott
@msbtx
The Same Deep Water As You
I wrote a poem about you once Used the ocean as a metaphor You didn't see it and I never told you And yet, the tide still ebbs and flows The earth still spins and I... well, I'm still too insignificant for the ink that spills from your pen
A love like this doesn’t vanish—it waits in whispers, too breathless to scream.
you, little wildflower blooming defiantly through the cracks.
dress me in shadows. weave stolen flowers through my hair.
years ago a good night from him soft as a poem a promise to chase the clouds from her dreams she never knew how those words would stay, echoing quietly through all her days
i am like a wildflower. a quiet rebellion blooming through ruins and dust.
still haunted by the memories i didn't bury deep enough.
i wish i were better at speaking up, but i hide in this darkness and hope you can hear my silence.
We tend to let silence carry the weight of a thousand unsaid things.
once, we were strangers; once, we were electricity in cables spanning hours and states and stardust; once, I felt your blood move in tandem with mine; once, once, once
It's not well known that fog can burn. The longer your exposure, the stronger your resistance; the more you inhale, the more fireproof your lungs. In the right conditions, you can snap and see sparks. I know this because I recently singed my fingertips—my favorite coastal hazard.
it still stings a little sometimes. like an old bruise that never fully healed, some mark deep in my muscle that shows up if I look at a photo a little too long.
I like pianos that are out of tune, old books with poems written on margins, and dreamers who don’t fit in this world.
Somewhere between an exposed nerve and sharpened blade.
I step back, let the crumbs gather clarity creeps in like an old friend peace isn't loud, it's the quiet hum of knowing yourself in the quiet, truth whispers, a gentle reminder that sometimes the best company is your own