sjsprWriting

Fragments,

pieces,

snippets of something.

They take place upon my skin and morph themselves

into my second shadow.

Night time breezes always feel gentle

upon my skin

and the stars become my only form of home.

I awake before the sunrise and wait to feel warmth.

I smile when the stars disappear.

Sleeping in and opening my eyes to light

makes the suns greeting even sweeter.

Books and characters rack my brain

or I leave them on the shelf for months

and await that pang of hunger.

Solitary confinement is my form of a sanctuary

or laughs and talk and contact is my form of catharsis.

At times my bed is my sole companion,

at others I find comfort in the quick run of my feet or jump of my limbs.

Water on sandy shores that cling 

to my skin captures my heart

and reminds me of my inability

to translate love into my native tounge.

I am made up of 

fragments,

pieces,

snippets of something.

All contrasting, clashing, colliding,

to make up a second shadow

waiting to be brought into the suns range,

waiting to be whole.