His Darkness Embraces His Light
To James Kraner
His darkness,
and his light
collide
to make a brighter sun
and a more humorous smile
that leaves the blind bewildered
and makes the contemptuous wither.
His mouth is crude,
but speaks of the sweetest
things that could be,
in his husky little whisper,
while a smile tugs at the sides
forcing his blank face to subside.
And his eyes,
he believes to be plain,
but there’s an ocean,
and constellations that take place
at the corners of them,
while the sea slowly sways,
in the middle where his pupils would be,
picking up pace,
when his emotions decide to change.
And his heart he says is stolen,
by my mischievous little fingers.
I hold it in the palm of my hand, not knowing
what to do with it.
Because,
His heart is frayed at the edges,
burnt from past lovers,
and scorched from lost friends,
and has lost some small pieces
from being abandoned,
torn down the middle from
unspeakable actions,
and he believed it to be lost in his sea
of past notions.
But here I hold it within my grasp,
not knowing how to heal it.
Should I put a band aid on it,
or kiss it until it smiles,
glue it back together,
search for the missing pieces,
or replace them with ones
I’ve created?
He doesn’t see it but I do...
He isn’t this awful person he
believes himself to be,
he’s sweeter to me,
than anyone has ever seen.
He says it’s just me,
but I know that deep down,
way deep down,
in that scared and torn little heart
that he wishes he was like this
to everyone who has passed through
his life,
sailed across his ocean,
and stared at the constellations
that tell marvelous, dazzling stories,
and have sat gazing at them in his eyes,
or laid in his arms,
and felt his warmth from his radiating sun
that lays underneath his skin
and have really absorbed who he is.
I don’t think he realizes it...
But I surely do.
He is more than he sees himself as,
he’s a dazzling sculpture that has
been shaped into a spectacular man
who’s a bit hot headed when then wind
blows too fast,
and his blood starts to boil,
while his sun slowly darkens,
but he’s a masterpiece
I’ve never seen before,
so unique to the eye,
a little blinding to the soul
that when you see him
you may not notice him.
You may walk by him,
upright in his uniform
that makes him seem like a follower,
but underneath the facade he portrays
as part of the military rank,
there’s actually a human being underneath it,
breathing,
thinking,
only things his own mind could make.
His darkness
embraces
his light,
as his withered heart
tries to heal itself,
but it’s pieces don’t
quite fit together
in the right way.
But the jagged pieces of his heart
I hold in my hand
and I can fit them perfectly together
because I know exactly
who he is.
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