They are, they are, yes! They are!

It had died the moment it's vein was cut from the lifeline of the tree.

When the wind blows I think that maybe you're back.

The memory stained planks of our stoop creek and I imagine your bare feet wandering across them to the door once more.

Such a beautifully teasing melody.

Your familiar voice brings the delicate hair on my neck and arms to attention, my pulse heavily increasing.

It's louder now.

My heart wakes me,
and for a split second
I felt as if the flesh of mine was pressed and conformed to the perfect contour of your body.

Instead,
the leather of the couch you've left behind as a reminder
moulds itself to the shape of my being.

Cocooned in a cold sweat,
the leather does not breath.
Does not beat for me.
Does not mind if I remain in this nightmare.

In this instance I am plunged into what seems like the depths of the arctic.

Drowning.

Blue eyes, dark brown crazy hair.
Her beauty, breathtaking...
It was summer.

We drove through orchards of pear. Apple.
Driving, to where?
No clue.
What mattered was that day,
this was the perfect day.

The sun burnt as it fell behind the hills,
Staining the clouds with vermillion.  

We're walking along a small wooden fence. Hands brushing fruit as it hangs teasingly, biting into a crisp sweet apple.
We didn't talk,
we knew what was ahead.

More and more people began to show, all wandering towards the alluring sound. Anticipation filled the senses, it was paralyzing.

A cool breeze sparked, gently swooning the orchards. I reached up, gripping the skin of a slightly bruised pear, at that time I saw her over my shoulder.

I froze.

The thought
of you
interlocked
with him
as
we used to be
drives
me
to pure
insanity.

The dark, fog, shadows... Sunset...
The sharp sound of a ****** of crows in a carrion tree
that has more stories to tell than the earth itself.
Slight chilling breeze
Ropes slowly swing
Specked with blood, from past lives.
The face, crying upon a rock, as if it were tears of crimson.
Echoes of children through the hollow air.

But there is nothing

...

Nothing at all

You are alone.

I fall in love with every pretty girl I see

...

My minds adrift and I paint how life could be

They say "all is fair in love and war."
But what becomes of the casualties?

I'm longing for you.
They say "Give it time, she'll come."
But her train is way past due.
Summers end, Fall is in the air.

I remember the day you Murdered the Yucca plant.
How you glowered over the sharp shredded remains of leaves and center stalk, which had once succeeded such tremendously large blossoms of which I was so fond of as a child.
Such determination in your hazel brown eyes.
I remember the Fable of the Avocado Sprout and the Squirrel.
The Parable of the Blonde Boy and the Crabapple Tree.
The Romance of the Mosquito and the Fly.
And best of all.
The Demise of the Kodiak and the Lioness.

When we wake, the sunlit morning swelling before us, I will know but one thing. When the everglow of your beauty is shown into my eyes, nothing else will matter, nothing but love.