The Quiet Between The Storms Poem by Amber Luna

i stand surrounded by these oils, a still life of my singularity, ignorant of any morality.things of the outside world no longer speak or demonstrate loyalty, as they once did.i find refuge within the realm of the alter ego, who dwells within the grotto of my mind, two steps back from mainstream thought, detached from free flow and the like.i never thought that you would be the sort who would contort the placid waters of my mentality, twisted by whorls of your diluted intention.you seek my attention which is met blades, the tools of my trade, our thoughts combine above our heads snaking through the air, entwined with despair.sliding, shifting, shining, grey silk, melting across our shoulder blades whispering memories of joy and its ilk.oozing the paste of things not of our taste and surrendering to time, it becomes clear and more apparent that things will never be the same.the window's wooden frame splinters beneath a single gaze.i bite back my dramatic reaction to the essay you will never rephrase.i still feel the dried paint chippings from that summer between my fingers, i can still feel the resonating rumble of the gods rolling the last round of dice and its impact once thrown, i can still feel the spilt ink across the sky and the dragons tooth against my throat.i can still feel the thread that binds me to you.the one i supposedly cut.why did i never say goodbye.why do i still let you tug at what is not meant to be there and why will i not play my part and let go?