I started making Coloured Bubbles
of Sights, of Smells, of Sound
Collecting all Around
Each one was
A Bubble of my Life -
So quick to be Broken
I had to Rush to the Next
& hang onto what was Left?
Something that My Heart had Found.
Then it was True
Every time I Formed a Bubble &
thought of You
Something Familiar would come
along & Burst it
before the Rainbow could be Formed?
& i started to Loose the Colours
Began to Speed after
the Images of them -
From the glazed Perspective of Matterful Time
In the Shades of the Cactus over me
by your Eyes
& the Bubble Bursters Scorn.........
But the more the Splashes ran through my
the Faster I learnt how to form
the Bubble again
- As I listened to those Deserted Lips
& Watched the patience of the Bigger
ones, before they reached the Ground.
I Loved those Bubbles Sooo much
That I saw the Space & the Air Inside
& began to see the World that
hid, hand cupped inside the Bubbles
& He never Says it -
and you are never Ready?
he just thinks its Cool to keep
Bursting the Bubble, a Thousand times over -
'He' just expects 'You' to always
Listen to his Silence, to Understand?
So you Walk away Broken to try with Someone Else
What would have happened if he had said those Words - What would have Happened?
When there are so many Soap Bubbles You're too clean to make a difference
& what Ascends from the Emergency of this?