This morning i made you a cup of coffee before you woke up.
I wanted you to feel that i still love you as much as i did.
You ignored my coffee that was waiting for you for some sips before you left for work.
You missed the bus again.
I walked right behind you, listening to you cursing the day and your high heels.
I touched your red hair and i could not feel its softness against my skin.
You turned around and looked through me.
I knew you could feel me.
I knew you knew i was around.
But you kept walking and i heard you telling yourself to move on.
As night grows darker i feel your pain.
You cry in the dark of our room, whispering my name.
How much you miss me everyday.
Everytime you hear the sound of rain.
Everytime you see morning dew on the window...
You think of me...
I am trapped forever between the lines of universe.
I do not possess my awareness of time and space anymore.
But i still have you in my weak indistinct mind.
A ghost is all i am to you.
My vague presence is torturing me.
I can not feel the warmness of your skin anymore.
If i could travel a billion light years away to embody my presence just to touch you for the last time...
Here in the dark you linger...
Reaching out into the night...
Tracking the last drops of my last days with you...
If only you saw...
If only you heard...
If only you felt...
If only you knew...
*I am here...
I hold my heart in cupped hands.
Offering it to you only.
You hold it in your hands for a while, thinking.
You smell it and throw it ******* the cold floor unmercifully.
''Sorry! It's not heavy enough'' you say.
I pick my heart up off the floor as i watch you walking away.
the moon was her mother
telling her bedtime stories
was a night light
let the monsters slip
back into the imaginations
and we shall sleep
god holds us like blanket
the white sheets warp you like a ghost
I was her ghost
shining only to love her
only so she can sleep
again and again and again
that she was
but she still breaths
though she maybe
Along the shore
fall the waves--
Copyright 2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved.
— The End —