There is always going to be a great shadow on every heart, if it’s left to grow. It’ll be there, Paler than a bluebird flying with a wounded wing. Surrounded by a crown of thorn curled and wicked, like a stale pastry lattice that no sea of alcohol could ever revive, or even silence. In that very same regard, no amount of smoke could ever fumigate or blind you to its darkness. It’ll seep anonymous through your veins, and in vain you’ll fight her but no!
How lo, she’ll dance and dream of nightmares. Through this troublesome folly, listless poets enslaved by vanity have poured tears into memories and cried over things that have not yet happened. Your very soul will weep until dry and wrinkled, old and begging for the sweet nourishment of simple life-light, to breathe, love and dance.
Let this spectral dark wretch be the opposite of its foul implication. Like a tree’s branch lingering in the expanse of a neighbor’s garden, on a warm day cooling your very best friend. Let the shade of the branch leak into another heart and quell the anger of one you love. The shadow works both ways. Depending on whether the warmth soothes, or its searing white heat starves the sea of your emotions. Feed your soul. Do it right now. Smile. People love you. People that don’t even have to think of you or for you. Because for them to love you, is second nature. Bless you. I love you without even thinking about it.
Not everything is black and white, its true. Not every sunny day ends in disaster.
Just know on the ones that do, that I love you so very much.
by Sean Macro