If I left the earth today, what would they say?

A few would cry.
Dry your eyes
Live on and dream for me
Carry my soul in your hearts
Make sure, that I never fade away.

Take me to a place
Where angels place seeds into the cores of pears;
Gently intertwining the juicy fibers
Into nearly perfect ovals.

Go to sleep
Don’t wake up; Don’t blink!
Rest your eyes and sleep

Sleep with me
I promise, I will always rest on your shoulder

The words you say mean nothing to me.
  
While conjuring what you think is a colorful stream of apology mixed with your idea of honesty, your stream simply vanishes inside my now black and white waters.

You have broken me.

You have torn apart the closely stitched fabric which I had opened for you, pulling apart the individual strings, for what I thought was infinity.

How could I have thought of infinity?

Infinity exists only to the point of closure.  When one member of our conjoined species decides that infinity has arrived, how can we stop what is inevitable?

All color then vanishes from iridescent waters.

Color is ****** up and annihilated by the unwound strings, free of the restraining fabric, yet lost within their newly found liberty. Strings…which then wait to be reassembled, piece by piece, until the stitches are snug again.


To begin, I must find the color.

Faint breathing
Turns to gasping for love saturated air.
Through the nocturnal imagination,
Led by wishful thinking.

All senses lay sharpened
Waiting to pierce through the love charged air.
An orb of white light appears.
Ripped out of its nest,
Torn out of someone’s soul.

Every night,
Faint breathing
Turns to gasping for love saturated air.
Millions of orbs
Search for their long lost heir.
A kingdom of warmth and compassion waits to be ruled.
But, every night
Through the nocturnal imagination,
White light is led by wishful thinking
Of finding it’s nest,
Free of heartless fools.

What makes it so easy to ponder about lost admiration than newly found attraction?

It must be that we have so much more time to ourselves after realizing that our lost love can be compared with a pair of old tennis shoes.

We have journeyed to distant lands of pleasure, happiness, communal pain, hard work, and satisfaction.  We have shuffled through the ever changing seasons of the emotional storm. At some point, it is almost unimaginable that we will someday be replaced.  Some tennis shoes never get replaced.

But do the owners of those shoes ever have the chance to regroup, grow, and renew?

The soles and linings and laces of shoes begin to wear out.  Soon, patches are needed.  Sometimes a newborn child can serve as a patch and sometimes an exotic vacation will do the trick.

Surely no one believes that the patches are permanent…

It is easier to ponder about long lost attachment because, at the end of the long walk that we have taken with our shoes, we often come to think and wish that we had taken better care of their owners.