Abstract in You

As sleep finally comes to settle over my exhausted body. Thoughts are choking me. Blocking off my airways. I've written letters and poems for you. And no combination of delicately placed words seems to capture what I want to say. My eyes are starting to blur and darkness is creeping into my vision. And I still can't manage to fabricate the words in my mind into a free flowing, description of the pictures that you paint inside my head. Colors I didn't know existed. I don't think the human mind was made with the capacity to handle such an indescribable, brilliantly vibrant combination of emotions, thoughts and dare I say hopes? It's only when I'm teetering on the narrowest, most unstable and thin line of consciousness that I can actually withstand the tremendous web of thoughts that's so delicately been weaved into the most dangerous and horrifying parts of my soul. But it's only in these fleeting moments before sleep drags me down in its numbing grip that I can slow down the thoughts that traveling faster than the speed of light inside my fragile mind. And realization sinks in, I must see this picture you paint not with my mind. But with my heart and soul. If I want to understand the hieroglyphics etched into the sides of my skull and the walls of my veins, then I must stop trying to produce facts and data from something that should be left alone for the heart to answer in the abstract yet bone chilling colors that mix and twist inside the depths of something I cannot understand by analyzing and calculating. It's about feeling and interpreting the swirls of blues, purples, greens, reds, yellows and oranges that seem to cloud my every thought and desire, as to what is truly in my heart.