Hand in hand

I wanna hold your hand.
But will you pull your weight?

To live as a puppet
Controlled by a puppy
Is a future I’d prefer
Not to consummate.

I wanna hold your hand.
But will you tighten your grip?

The Stockholm captor
Captivates the captive,
Defining confinement
A partnership.

I wanna hold your hand.
But will you mind what I hold?

A balloon and a pencil
To fulfill my purpose
To etch in the sky
A story untold.

The former is filled
With piping hot dreams
As a ladder for the latter
To reach the sun’s beams.

I wanna hold your hand.
But will you come fly with me?

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Silent Silas

The windows to my soul
Tend to have their blinds up,
And I leave the door locked tight
By keeping my own mouth shut

So my apologies if it’s frustrating
That I’m so cold and calculating.

It’s my modus operandi;
You can’t spell “Silent” without Si.

But if it’s any consolation,
I am striving to get better
At voicing my own thoughts
Without resorting to writing letters.

A Drop in the Bucket

A shooting star shot past.
 
But I kept my gaze downcast
For tonight these troubles
Tongue-tied the wordsmith.
 
A wish was to be made.
 
This wishy-washy renegade
Dodged its question
And pled the fifth.
 
“What was your wish?”
She exclaimed.
“I can’t tell you,
I’m afraid.”
 
The rooster’s second crow
Came forthwith.