I waited for you at heaven’s gate
And I’ve rummaged through the pits of hell;
The scars atop my halo are testament.
Be that as it may,
You seem far always,
In more ways than most.
The reality that comes with realizing
The hands on the clock
Only ever pass by each other
But are never together.
I call this my morning blues,
The feeling before my knees bend in prayer,
The last gasp of air between my hands as they clasp together,
The whispers from my hearts motion.
This is not a poem about love or beauty,
This is about the things that go unnoticed,
This is about the time I’ve spent
– Smyekh David-West.