my time

I haven't thought of writing in a while, then out of nowhere someone says, let me read you.  Hesitantly I hand over a one or twenty pieces, which to my minds eye can only be described as corny.  It's my corny baby, so my heart stops beating, and a stupid tense grin holds my face.  After a few, they stop.  Repeats a  few lines from each that they like, and I am held captive by them just wanting me.  my work.  No Maya or Derek Walcott but it might have just been, because they remembered phrases I myself had forgotten I wrote.  I am a writer.  Hidden agendas aside, the importance of taking a moment to rekindle a smouldering ember is not lost to me.  They will be remembered in my time.   

Again

Feel the air pass soft against my skin
teasing responses, long forgot
abandoned beneath the smile
which hangs too brilliantly
between taut ears and quivering chin.
Time flows unhurried.
I fall
mouth open
gushing silence to an empty room,
denying the scream its time.
Hurt (pain) buried within the walls
of sense and sensibility,
too far down  to erupt,
grating at my core.
Eyes burn
tears do sting
begging to fall.
They don't.
They won't.
They can't find release
caged by lids pressed tightly together
trapping in my pain.
Sanity pleads for freedom!
No.........NO!
No! No! No!
I will not be a victim.
I will not go in silence.
I am the victor here.
Nothing is lost...... past of future.
For I am
Today I am
Here I am, still am
Alive (free).