My finger itched: my vein pulsed
My heart swelled: my eyes brim
My cheeks burn from quiet tears
My mind speaks: my mouth refuses
The green grass was mellow and wet
It stuck out through my toes
Innocent and sweet.

The skies spread over vast
The clouds floated, the birds flew over spaces
I towered over an empty empire
I stood alone on dried grass
My legs, turned coward
My fingers stupefied
My eyes salted
My soul melted.

Being left out is my language
And I write my story on the sky
The plea of attention awakes the brown meadows
I, a mere existence:
A mere fact,
Neither needed nor valued.

In a busy world so unsettling
How I wish for someone to notice,
Someone to care, to be known,
To talk, to be felt, remembered,
A mere someone to lend me an ear.

How I wish to be valued in this world,
Small things not noticed any longer.
Yet here I am craving those things that means the universe.

Am I not part of this world any longer?
A fellow being without preferences,
Still a soul that craves attention in this earth so fine.

© Ira Vey: All rights reserved.

Dripping tears down flowery cheeks,
Vanishing beneath the ocean seas.
Mud cherished while thunder whistled;
Noise carried the warmth of cold air.

Wet sand caressed the roots of trees — 
Willow, pine, and the great oak tree.
Clouds spilled barrens full of water,
Slushing through forgotten roads,
Forming ponds where they pleased.

Here I stand within deafening noise,
Closure closing around admired lies.
The air turned warm, the birds became songs,
Yet here I am, accepting this bliss.
Patters of rain faded into light,
And here I stand, shadowing the dark — 
The dark once synonymous with downfall.

Dreaming storms once sounded melody;
They were the cravings I yearned about.
Tears leaked through the facade of reality,
Forgetting monsoons, forgetting myself.
The sea of lies shrank beneath the wave of truth;
I realized the ache of one-sided love.

I loved a lie worth weeping for.
Restless dusks pleaded for an end.
Grey skies come and go,
But not the sun that stays.
Seasons change, winds may crash,
Yet light still finds the dark.

You might have been a cloud that burst;
Nevertheless, the monsoon is vast.

The rain you pattered
Were the tears I leaked.
But endings stand within our paths,
And truth became the bliss of my day.
Your universe may hold a thousand suns,
But my galaxy has only one.

© Ira Vey: All rights reserved.