Negative Space

If life

is all about

the bright lights,

what about

the dark spaces?



The negative space.



What if the excess

became the necessary;

the unknown,

a common place?



Could we transpose

our thoughts;

the paths we take,

the things we see

and hear?



Escape the periphery.



What lies

in the blank spaces,

between the lines?



Something

left undiscovered,

to discover.

The Crossroad

This weekend, walking through an airport, I was inspired by how so many people, coming and going to so many different places, were all in one place. Thus, I spent my plane ride writing this daydream-y story.





The crossroad;
Where two paths once met;
You and I
had no idea.

I, on my way to see my parents,
You, enjoying the ride;
Going in no direction.

Yet, somehow,
A twist in the road;
A bend on the path;
That day,
We both missed our train.

Faces scattered like paint;
All only slightly different,
Flashed in front of me.
A squealing halt
And crowds flooded;
In and out.
We stood still.
Like something you see in the movies.

I glanced at my feet,
And you smirked.
That's how it all began.

I stepped onto the wrong train,
Yet it seemed so right.

People around us,
Each going his own way;
Faces around us changed,
But we remained.

We talked about anything
And everything;
But the words meant nothing.

By the early morning,
The train had run its rounds.
We stepped off together.

Outside of a local coffee shop,
We watched the sun rise.
When a shaggy-haired boy
Flipped the 'closed' sign to 'open',
Our lungs were filled with the warm
Aroma of coffee grounds.

We sipped our drinks
As more words
Filled the unknown space
That lie between us.

No time had passed,
At least to us.
Until my phone began to ring,
Did we realize the world around us still moving

You brushed my hair out of my face
And tucked it behind my ear.
Looking into your eyes,
I felt tears well up in mine.

Rediscovering my place,
Sitting on the hard, wooden seat,
I looked out at you.
The train began to inch forward
As you bit your lip
And ran your fingers through your hair.

We moved along,
And I could no longer see your face.
You slowly faded
To become something distant
From my heart
And in my memory.

1-16-14

This week in my English class, we studied poetry including only a single idea and using as little words as possible. The result is my inspiration to edit a simple poem I wrote a few weeks ago...

The thick becomes more intense.

I am still here;

enduring.

A beaming light;

a hope.

I know the flame 

on the other side

won't flicker.