I speak because thats the only thing I know how to, I write because thats what I have
Day 5 of March Poetry Challenge.
As dominoes fall and tumble so do empires built with these hands.
My courts, knights and armies have failed and my walls torn down so I looked to you for help.
As the Invaders approached ready to plunder and steal you rebuilt us from the inside out, purified by fire and now we shine as gold stronger than ever reigning as Kings and Queens.
n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.
He’s the traitor that lies within my walls hiding in plain sight for all to see
Playing his drums loud and proud a beat all his own
He plays my tunes for all to hear,
A symphony of all my secrets poured out to an audience of one
To squeeze out of hiding every note I’ve held dear; Strumming through my arteries the lyrics of my soul Bruising my veins with the quill of my truth till I bled the traitor that’s become my heart on his guitar.
The sun in your eyes
makes me want to see you in the sunshine
and bathe in your rays,
even though the night has always been good to us, the twilight purveying the art in our love in a silhouette of mismatched emotions,
but its always been beneath the sun’s light that our solo aria becomes a duet
Third Culture Wife. 