In the words of Neruda, death is like an admiral waiting in the harbor. So then, what is life like?
I wanted to trust, but I have been dishonest and now I take the good and turn it bad. My friend is compassionate, checks in regularly, makes sure I am well in spirit. Perhaps that is what breeds love, but I have already destroyed love in our past. I hoped I could be larger than I am so that I would be worthy of feelings they send, but to this day I guard secrets, and tell truths disguised in jokes that are shrugged off in innocent beliefs of my stability.
One day, I too, will cease to be as will all pathways leading to me. Hopefully you will immortalize me each day in your memory. Unfortunately sometimes we may have to leave, quite unwillingly.
Wisteria skies are on fire with the pretty pink and purple petals against the backdrop of red and orange sky-flames. Time shifts and rolling white foamy clouds fill a cold sky as hail and snow fall in disorderly ways. The warm liquid pours down my throat, leaving a burning sensation when all outside is freezing. My hand is held and I am wrapped in strong and safe arms. I just had the realization that the skies mirrored what I once called love.
Be so goddamn unattainable that they think you live on the moon. Better still, be the moon that is too large for their lassos and too far from their reach.
Close each open space that you left open and conceal that which was exposed at one time or another. May the only parts that remain permeable be small and far between. Certainly try to remember where all the places that closed have been.
He has the type of smile that makes you want to reflect his joy back onto him. A bit rough around the edges, but such sweetness emanates from his tender actions and it makes you want to thaw.