My comfort rarely seen

               Taking back all the echoing memories, I
crawl to the edge of the morning sky. Hoping the world
filters itself long enough for the words to fall.

               Hoping for the related sounds to find a home
rooted deep by the depth of uncontrollable emotion.
There I stand. Back straightened, nailed rock hard
to a board and not seeing the despair of yesterday's
tears.

               Oh how just the glimpse of me, then, hurts
my mind. So careful I allowed myself the defenses
of sarcasm to place so no one could read the
weakened state I was displaying.

               So awkward I was. Yet how the steps
push me forward. Opening a new day, stands clear.
The layers burned are now recovering. Healing
in ways none save one can understand. Yes I still
cry in memory but dried I am before all. A slight
smirk pulls across paleness.

               Buried not to dig up, are those I have
forgiven for not understanding me. Making peace in a
trail of fire. Yes keep forward I go to disperse else
I fall and dig further. Burrowing.

               No the mind is vibrant and the voice is
silent. The eyes turn the melodies of cornflower
to brilliant storms. Indeed the depth is there yet my
voice stays quiet.

               Ask if you like. Though know the smile is
easier than a frown, easier than the cracked vocal
air. Indeed so much better than showing the
disappointing levels of hurt so many explain,
implore as drama. Withdrawn into my world of inked
words. Comfort is there ~ between lined parchment.