Found a Place

To all authors who wander and seek to be known.

Or it may not even be that.

You are a beautiful bird seeking to let the chains go.

Free your scratched up lungs of those twisted words you've been choking down.

Smoke surrounds the embules within your brain cells.

Oh honey, how you thought you were beautiful, but the world crushed you.

Your tiny little soul is still lit behind my sagging eyes.

The tears I've cried don't stop me for taking hours out of my day to search.

Yes honey, I've searched and searched your poems. 

I've read every last one of them until I cried.

I'll never know you or understand.  But I read.

I read how beautiful you were. 

I sang a song in my heart.

I cried tears of pain for your past.

For those demented thoughts that tourture you behind your eyes.

I'm here to collect them. 

I'm listening.

Don't even blow out your flame, because dear you are absolutely incredibly beautiful.

Even if my lips couldn't speak or touch yours I want you to know.

I am listening to those tears you speak of in every poem.

-art