Gift of Recovery

Here, within my dark abyss of stark silence, I hear the jangling tunes of rusted chains echo futile summer dreams like wildflower chimes in the wind, comforting my inner moon~ still bleeding self-inflicted sorrow, in need of a balmy muse as my heart painfully exhales poetry, breathing in the peace of petrichor, grieving through my pen on paper amidst procrastinated punctuations, confusing the columns of calm between the quiet quotations of healing. But somewhere between the unpredictable lines of emotional storms, you’ll find our forgotten feelings, sedated by fireflies fluttering through the musical mists of sleepless nights, quenched like once upon a sacred quill, floating amongst salt and light, like a crescent’s rose blooming into the blues, learning to erase the unspoken shadows lining the boulevard of my weathered soul, for this is the song of the pearl resting in a sand-soaked bed of broken shells, turning oceanic pages with metaphors that ebb and flow, like a collage of dancing diamonds, cleansed with colors of sunsets softer than the chorus of h o p e wrapped like souvenirs laced in saffron and sage.