I

I

 

I am the folded pages

of my own story

the whispered scent

of nothingness

that seeks

the permanent taste

of breath.

I am the petals

folded along the edges

of an undeveloped flower

seeking my tongue,

stretching my ways,

begging the warm touch

of summer sun.

I am the dialect

unburdened

by expression,

words forming

simultaneously

unhindered by over-thought

they beg not to speak,

but are spoken –

an unfurling of images

passages

and passageways

and forget not,

the silent passenger

that seeks the silence

and begs to be.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. I swear I feel like I’m floating when I read your words ❣️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sumyanna says:

      You better! 🙂 That makes me smile even more.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Sumyanna says:

        Oops – I thought you were responding about what I said about your painting style 😉 Either way… thank you!

        Like

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