Songs Souls Sing

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DSteffi

Published: Sep 19, 2016

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Literature Text

You can’t measure the sadness in poems
the way you can’t measure love;
there is no distance between lines
that could ever justify a tear
that’s been shed out in the open

without anyone ever seeing it.
They don’t tell us anymore
that the most fragile part of us
cannot be seen, a soul running rampant
when you drink a cup of euphoria
but remains bound to your bones
as you fracture from every punch
that doesn’t touch your skin.

There are ghosts in each of us
haunting the shadows of our steps,
trapped in our skeletons,
cracking as we count the minutes
to the next time we let it loose,
or fill to the brim.

When did we start being ticking time-bombs
just waiting to go off?
To splinter in all directions
in the hope of being someplace else,
someone else, in someone else’s dream.

But maybe we should hold on
to the light of dead stars
a little longer,
they still after all
let us wish
eons after they’re long gone.