Pattern Of A Sweater

Individually we start out as a dull color, slowly fading of washed predictions. All it takes for a pattern to occur is a new color that beautifully blends with our original setting. Two colors forming a pattern, crossing lines with initial purpose of manipulating a comfort zone in hopes of achieving miraculous designing leading to happiness forthcomings. Anyone can wear a sweater, not everyone fits the design of different unless their willing to try for that someone worth adjusting. We all look good in sweaters but together stunning would penetrate our view of each other….. let’s fit together as great we look. 

That’s my pattern of a sweater.

– C.A. Thomas  

GOD’s Paintbrush 

Beautiful rectifies you, covering the wings of an angel destined to fly. The stroke of God’s Paintbrush illuminates the truer essence of stunning captivation, capturing a breathtaking moment surrounding the magic of an unforgettable memoir. Paint as blessings showering the emptiness of an unfinished canvas, giving eyes the new meaning of vision, sweet texture pacifying fingertips with smoothness covered in layers. God’s Paintbrush polishes beautiful beyond sight, not only feeling its presence…. but witnessing a victorious triumph.
– C.A. Thomas 

Betrayal

Betrayal, a kiss carrying no meaning, a hug not as trustworthy as the previous. Words no longer distinguishing value as promises drown in expectations of disappointment. Betrayal compared to ice, cold as the premeditation of gentle water forming a cube of ice, hardened in damaging what it touches. The closeness of bondage tampered with elements of suspensional beliefs, triggering curiosity as it paralyzes any hope of good resurrected.  People are capable of change….. betrayal is never forgotten like a dream that’s easy to interpret. 

– C.A. Thomas 

Stipulation

How could I decorate anything if I’m not entitled to ownership? How can I bring anything to life if my signature means absolutely nothing? I’m beyond prepared in altering the presence of change in a beautiful setup, manipulating every detail to my satisfactory. Ownership means everything to me, establishing a legacy for the footprints of my children’s children to follow in the midst of my absence. Stipulation are the strings holding me in place, the reality hindering me of achieving a long dream I’m hoping to awaken. This is one of those times prayer is needed in anticipating my next possible move….. because at this moment, I’m standing still. 

– C.A. Thomas 

The Best Of Me

There’s a piece of me I’m saving for you. The best of me I’m leaving for you, the joyous moment of a dream coming true. Confusion overshadowing a time of grief, leaving me all alone feeling incomplete, finally realizing alone prepares me for the presence of you. Time demonstrates the privilege of my presence, understanding the honesty of my worth tripled by a woman who’s touch instills the maturity within my growth. When our path of destiny collide she’ll inherit the best of me, the rest of me as our love shall ever intend to be. She deserves that part of me.

Till the day I exhale my last breath. 

– C.A. Thomas 

Love In Translation

The closest to love I could easily translate would be you. My feeling for you demonstrates endless possibilities of spontaneity beyond action. Loving you as the privilege sworn I’d vow to live by, accepting your worst as the reality of understanding an angel’s limitations. Breathless moments of seeing you across the room, heartbeats skipping patterns in hopes of longing your touch in squeezable doses. I’m not your everyday hero, not even a knight in shiny armor, I’m only a man who loves you more than myself. Sometimes I believe my life would only begin the second we fall in love, journeying on a quest that only we’d embark. She may never read this…… She may never know….. I still love her till this day. 

– C.A. Thomas 

Empty

Sometimes I feel empty, emptiness like a house with no furniture. Staring in a large room where life no longer exists but my very own. Memories I try holding onto slip away as my tears blur the vision of remembrance. It becomes difficult each day gaining an inch of happiness, wondering why you left me so soon? Anger would only diminish my conscious of good I have because of you, yet I question your illness in hopes of God granting you a second chance of life. You loved me at the highest platform of my existence, in return reciprocity became the shower of kisses I drowned you in every chance I took. I can smell the essence of you that made it harder in keeping me away, piecing together an obituary and photo collage that resembles my thoughts of you. Now I realize glancing at a program harboring your smile is much harder to view, a death date solidifying every hope and wish of you returning falsified like an opportunity never circling again. I’m gonna pray my emptiness dissolve, replacing it with love as the concrete my heart shall express in memory of you.

I love you grandma.

Always,

– C.A. Thomas

What Happens Now???

My grandmother now laid to rest, pondering thoughts surround me. What happens now? Does the darkened clouds lighten for a sun to beam through? Does the wind blow strong enough for a sail to carry a tiny boat to the distant sea? Even I cannot answer these trivial riddles. The environment I now reside in feels different, a more peaceful setting but a presence missed entirely. A missed aroma I’ll never smell again for as long as I live on this earth. I’m feeling a bit empty right now but I’ll be fine. I have more than enough projects to occupy my time sparingly, enough to think of you along the way. I only desire in making you proud of me. 

Rest on as I continue earning my place in this world. 

– C.A. Thomas

Writer’s Block

Writer’s block cements my train of thought frequently. Typing words with backspace only a key away of dismissing. An idea igniting the awakening of something inspirational leaves me as if I never claimed ownership. I figured if I wrote about this maybe my words will project a better view of how I tackle this issue relentlessly. Understanding writing I try my very best in explanation although hesitation temporarily subdues a talent I have yet to acquire. Mind racing in preparation of something new I close the lid of a blank screen, cursor blinking as the lighting dims slowly. Writer’s Block may detour my emotions momentarily….. but I will not succumb to defeat.

– C.A. Thomas

Letter Carrying A Scent.

Writing letters to someone worthy of reading each line of sweet nothings I remember. Words scribbled above and below lines of demonstration outlined on a sheet of paper usually tossed away if disapproval dodges requirement. Rehearsal performed verbally, mentally and repeatedly till thoughts of honest intentions are proofread thoroughly. A kiss embedded on a letter, symbolizing a signature of promise with a special scent sprayed on the center of a polished masterpiece. Tucked inside of an envelope with a gentle moistening taste of expressional effort……. signed, sealed and delivered.

*Places envelope inside mailbox*

– C.A. Thomas