lament, promise, word

Quiet Air

Hangs there. Invisible to the eye who looks upon. Heavy upon the chest of those who breathe it. She tries not to inhale that quiet air that she cannot see. It stings the back of her tongue thickly swamping shallow into her lung. Drowning in the quiet air, gasping at the hidden tears bleeding down the back of her throat. Concentrate and no one sees. Metal air in, hope breathed out. 

Quiet air.

Midnight silence. Rich with the black of possibility. Thoughts explode unspoken. Imagination creates and destroys in the realm of mute stars. An entire lifetime is hushed behind the veil of quiet. Dangerous stories, passionate tales. This alternate universe of air makes castles and kingdoms from invisible vapors. Afraid to risk too deep a breath, for the beauty may only exist in the silence. Always hovering, responsibly abandoned. Cautious air in, dreams breathed out.

Quiet air.

Empty of meaning. Full of memory. Void of inspiration. Freighted with frustration. Sticks to the nothing between them. Within an arms-reach, a blank wall build brick upon brick. Thicker, farther, quieter. The clear distance distorts the face they cannot reach. Sighs of forgotten beauty, steadily unremembered, assumed unattainable, grown uninterested. Concrete air in, trust breathed out. 

Quiet air.

Pause in the chaos. Unhearing moment frozen in time. Honesty feels darkest, reflection peers to the pit. Burdened air loads weak shoulders with sadness, shame, and regret. Inescapable suffocation by the selfish and the stolen. Prayers and promises insulted by the lips who dare to repent. Every plea a breath closer to deserved destruction. Fears of death unvoiced under reclaimed virtues. Poison air in, identity breathed out.

Quiet air.

Tuesday afternoon. Stale rice stench hangs over the sink. No voice. No movement. No heat nor cold. He holds his breath in defiance to the quiet air. Once surrounded by whirlwinds, the storms have died to a calm. He soundlessly wonders. The quiet air that dwells before our eyes, is it our fate, is it our fault? Unmoving atmosphere. Unless moved. 

Quiet air in, word breathed out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s