Time has passed now and I return to the field from whence I came, though this field is not mine; it can’t be. The lush emerald grass has transformed into a stony taupe, frail and wilted. DID I ANGER YOU? Not a crack of soft cerulean can be seen from above. The warm rays that once consumed me are lost in transit by the hoary locks above.
HAVE I MADE YOU SAD? I set gaze towards my giant cedar. Not you too. Rotten from the root up to the decayed branching. The scent burns my nostrils and taints my lungs. DOES IT HURT? My legs give weight to the ground while my body follows. I lay there, cheek pressed against the haggard soil, until all is blurred.
I wake to find my head at your foot; a rose in the sea of weeds. My lips soar to yours, and they dance a fiery tango once again. Oh how I’ve yearned to dance with you. My weary eyes unlock and bleed to not meet yours. WERE YOU REAL? I look towards my sole to find a tombstone. The name is mine. *WAS I?