In the mirror

 

In that mirror,

a practised smile.

Yeah, I’m fine.

Face in denial.

Smile... Too wide.

Smile... Too toothy.

Smile... Too thin.

None are fitting.

The eyes

not joining in

with the way

the cheeks are lifting.

The eyes

showing

only blank

dark voids inside,

like the deepest

ocean of a heart that

collapsed and died.

 

In that mirror,

a practiced pretender

puts on a mask.

The perfect disguise.

A contender for the grand prize.

The clown that secretly cries,

the joker in a pack of lies,

the smile that rises but never

gets higher than the waterline.

And that sinking feeling

floods over eyes again,

drowning in solitude

over the love which sits

in a throne room

a million miles from him.

The queen of hearts,

and her perfect grin.

 

In that mirror,

choreographed hellos

fade into brick wall goodbyes.

And smiles never lie,

except when they are painted on

in precision,

by an expert at hiding it all inside.

A practiced speech

that won’t ever leave

the house of his mouth.

The practiced speech

of a love that sits

forever out of reach.

 

In that mirror

depression

stares back at him,

like an old friend

waving in greeting,

only depression wears

the reflective face,

Smile... Too wide.

Smile... Too cheery.

Smile... Toothy and thin.

Depression

hides the truth within.

The love story he dare not spin,

for this story has no beginning

just an ending

with a smile fading.

Valley of souls

 

I walk through

this valley of souls.

all just drifting along aimlessly,

following invisible alleyways,

leylines of liquidity.

No purpose, nor destination.

A babbling brook

of consciousness,

a stream of lost thoughts,

a river of frustration.

And I wonder

do any of them see me?

As I bound along

to a dream,

reciting a soliloquy

that is writing itself in my eyes,

as my

music rises full of passion.

 

The dead eyed gazes,

the unawakened stares,

not so subtly fixing

themselves on the floor,

in case any other eyes

should see the emptiness

through these windows inside.

 

I’m a rambler

on an endless highway,

with purpose in my feet.

But everywhere I look

I just see lost ghosts,

spectral hosts pulling

their meat covered

skeletal homes

around like snails

slithering on the ground.

 

But I have to see the light,

I’ve seen too much darkness

to last a lifetime, and I need to be inspired

for not all is such a dark plight,

there are other enlightened eyes

that stroll by from time to time.

And you my dear

are the brightest of all,

a beacon to all the hopeful souls

that walk this old town.

Footprints

 

Plant your heart

in that one lone field,

for love grows

from a single seed,

and in a world full

of buildings

become the tree.

Grow uniquely,

don’t just be built

in carbon copy mimicry.

Listen to the voice

that speaks, saying

stay don’t leave, and when you feel

inadequacy, remember

that one single seed

became you.

And our footprints

are gigantic.

 

Take in all the positives,

breathe out negativity,

and don’t drink the ill

nor poison the well.

Become something else.

Something better.

For when the weather

is getting you down

the only direction left is up, right?

 

And whether you follow

the path of enlightened minds

or the maze of the blind,

when you close the shutters

on the negative side,

only hope is left

where you reside.

So, pour some rays of sunshine

into that already beaming

soul and show the whole truth

the good, the bad, the parts in-between.

For when it’s played out in line,

your life is a miracle, and we may walk

alone on some of the ride,

but keep taking big strides

as our footprints are gigantic.