The art of thinking

We are connected by a single airflow

Breathing in and out each others words as the hours pass

slowly turning into a million years of mislead generations

leading to a new path of a better one 

We walk side by side in an almost synchronized step

Opening the same doors we have walked through a million times

unlocking the conversations of a rusted metal door we wished would just stay closed...

We arrive home

I cook a different meal then usual

A fine cuisine marinated with the truth

A glass of wine lined with the past...

And for dessert, reality... 

The reality that being with you is slowly bringing down the walls I once put up

But why?

The reality that this is a feeling that flows so easily within us that it seems unnatraul..

Why hasn't he hurt me? 

A bending backwards thought that suddenly comes back...what is he planning?

Its time to re routinize...

Lets clean first, yeah

Wash the dishes, the grime of my past slowly fades away but the residue that always lay there still be left untouched 

Sweep the floors, the dust bunnies of all of the times I cried irritates my eyes like never before, but still I continue sweeping

Sweeping them away, like he did when we last met, sitting there, and allowing them to flow, making jokes to try to subside

Make the bed...Silk relationships so ever softly lay their in my now past, covered by this new found one 

Thoughts wander

What has become of this?

Could it go further, or will it stop like this...

Do i wish for us to get closer, for me to break the wall once built?

I think i might, but will he?

Will he express something that once said can no longer vanish 

I long for this, a million years of a soul connected once torn to two just to find each other in the one place at the one time they thought they wouldnt...

 

Reviews

[Kane Hagwood]

I had my eyes on this piece for a while; I try to make it a point that any writing that's been shown or shared in the Social Hour group, I read. This poem, to me, feels so close to home. The fear of having your walls being taken down, and how natural it is, worried how the other person is going to use that situation. Are they going to take advantage of me? Or do they really want to help and heal me.

The cleaning part. Cleaning, cleaning--I need to keep cleaning.... I don't even know you, but it makes me want to give you a hug. Or at the very least to remind you that you're not broken or incomplete. Your poetry shows someone who has had a knife run through their gut, and watched someone twist it while they smiled. That's pain. That's hell. That's.... that's just the feeling I get. Cleaning away the past. Trying to burn it with chemicals and elbow grease.

You are complete on your own. You don't need anyone to complete you. To some extent, we all know this, but the yearning desire to be around "our other half" can be overwhelming. I've been there. Many, many times. But it wasn't until I discovered love for myself, true love, that love came into my life. I used to think it would be cocky to ask "would I enjoy my own company?" Now, I tell myself I'd be fun to hang out with. I like who I am. I love who I am. I hope that you're healing and finding this self love too.

Thank you for sharing this poem. Even with a mask, I see the depth this mysterious masked writer holds. Hold your own heart and remind yourself there will be happiness and hope on the horizon. Be your own protector, but don't be afraid to trust again. They're probably just as scared as you are....

Perhaps I've read too much into this, but this work speaks to me, and I'm just relying the emotions. I look forward to more of your writing :)

[Masked writer]

I find your poem intriguing infact. Thankyou for reading so deeply into my poetry

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I enjoyed reading this. The art of thinking is very often relegated to a minor status when applied to matters of the heart. The blind must walk by faith because they cannot see. But it is a fool that walks by blind faith alone when he has perfectly good eyes. I think the art of critical thinking is best applied to everything in measure or else we have a world without reason. Love can be without reason but there can be no reason without love. This was a good write. Gently, F.

[Chris Shaw]

Oh my goodness there is a great deal of thinking going on here. Questions and more questions. If the walls have gone up in the past, it takes a great deal of courage to let them fall. I feel an inner conflict here. An emotional write. Well penned.

Chris

[Masked writer]

Thankyou for your review chris, it means a lot. Words of yours are well written
Cheers
~Mw

[Einstein Noodle]

i love the title!! your poem reveals a whole lot of thinking .. first this way .. then that .. walls come down .. are bent back and return .. the clean sweep never really happens much as one wishes for it. i think this poem is packed with strong emotions and deep internal journies ...thanks for sharing!
E.

[Masked writer]

Yes indeed strong emotions and internal journies galore.. Thankyou for your words of wisdom and review.
cheers
~M.w

[Neville]

The title is clearly to die for and the rest is pretty damned compelling if you ask me .. Very much enjoyed

Neville

[Masked writer]

Ooo love the enthusiasim, and your review is very eye catching
~M.W

[Davidgeo]

Thinking is a lost art.

I enjoy your version of it.

[Masked writer]

I agree..
"my plesure, thankyou!