Why "Darling?"

The poem's syncopated and off-kilter syntax is a literate representation of my mind. It's sort of a signature of mine, hope you enjoy.

So I sat upon the fields of flowers and asked them discretely: "Teach me how to not be discrete."

The art of opening up -- rushing up to meet me -- it never tells me its secrets.
It keeps them locked away within the confines of my memory yet does not allow them to be true.
And as I know nothing; I believe in you.
 
When there is nothing, you are my everything, when I am alone, you are with me, and when I am weak, you lend me strength.

You are so unprecedentedly unique that I sit upon mountain tops that reach the depths of the ocean with your comprehension of all things incomprehensible.

Metaphorical resonance, a brighter world, unanswered questioning with answers that are sought after, not simply pondered.

My heart was raptured in your endlessness. As my heart lurched from side to side; from pain to pain, you end.

Or rather, you begin. You begin where I end. And in a pile of never-ending gratitude, my plea is for your happiness; need for mine.

Mine is too deeply buried - not likely to be found. My soul plays hide and seek with me on a regular basis just in hope that it might finally get caught.

Engulfed. In my own inability to hold my own and make my own choices. What is everything; how does it end?

If it does not end… how do we know of which moral standing it encompasses? Why so quick to make assumptions?

Teach me this art. Guide me. Belittle me. Teach me repose. Teach me longevity in this vast planet. I know nothing, but I am here to learn.

She. Loved me, and I her. This truth will be self-evident. It will be absolute until stated otherwise.
She: something lovely and something broken; something borrowed and something stolen, has eyes like skies upon my lost being and somehow, she guides me home. A tsunami of being found washes over me.

Teach me. Suppose we all are manufacturing and nothing turns up created, and the only life we’ll ever have crumbles far before our time dissipates.

What if the art of knowing nothing is the key to knowing everything? We know that life is so infinite that your existence meanders between forgotten and unheard of.

Pointlessness is a simple variation between a lack of superiority in my mind. Teach me strength. For I have faked it so long, with a heart in a strong box.

Held together by loving people into the emptiness of infinitesimal moments exponentially more than they can create; so much so that I may as well be the reason time slows in a black hole.

Drowning… Drowning in an endless suffocation of dopamine and serotonin. The levels no longer register. And as the shock sets in, my rib cage sinks.

As I am with you, my heart is a rally that protests love against my ribs.

I’ve loved you so whole-heartedly that your name has become synonymous with breathing. God, I let madness slip over me until I became insane. I was home not 30 seconds and the music flooded over me; music is what I became.

I sat there thinking: "if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane."

Author's Note

Tried something different with the colors and whatnot. I think it makes the piece engaging. Let me know what you think :)

Reviews

[micky]

breathtaking scenery and an excellent piece such passion and emotions...loved every line
well done :)

[Outcast]

Wow thank you so much! :)