He's just a ghost.
His skin, his touch, his truest laugh --- all evaporating upon the summer sweat.
Our fleeting, fluttering, falling into demise-kinda-memories
are so distant that I swear
- it really was just a dream made up in half-waking,
like all the other dreams I have of us so often still.
To where my mind does rest these nights.
To why I toss and turn and curse believed-in stars -- until near dawn I just get up and start
another wearied day.
Can't remember what kissing anytime was like - oh what that was! - or the smell of him, anymore. But it's like breathing without a heartbeat
ever since.
Everything has come undone.
And somewhere too far back was the best I'll ever be for now. Grasping only brittle…disciplines-
of how to fix all my little world, again, for the big wide greatest-world out there sure does loathe us
knowing anything more.
I sure miss him when the day is done though. And every-day that very fiber gets smoked deeper, into the hollow lungs breathing numb.
That's it! Why don't we escape for a respite in this end?
Why don't we, have the beautiful joyful time that should've been in the beginning -- now in our imminent end-for-now.
( End for when? ) "End" has lost all emphasis to my ears - and yet it cracks the voice if ever said aloud - so of course my mind repeats it like a mantra.
Someday someone.
All the answers lay just beyond that flight across the country, across the promises --- across undoing everything I said before.
Screw it.
And let's be some of the days earned, and ached, and desired for so slowly for years.
Meet me at the point
where we fell for a love before. Follow me to the place
and we'll wake without uttering a plan or a word.
Just spend those hours entranced…
and walk slowly away -- cause life is stolen, terrible ideas -- the best we'll ever be.
.
