He stitches his eyelids closed
And from the kaleidoscope of colors
Formulates a picture from his memory
Of his Emily.
A ballerina encased in satin
Set spinning when the lid of containment is lifted
Graceful, enchanting, alluring
Mapping the stage with movement,
Creating constellations to mesmerizing melodies
He watches from the wings.
She takes flight across the sky
And extends her hand,
Inviting him to join her,
A gift, a granted wish.
But he hesitates.
The words dangle off his lips,
And--
The seam of his eyelids is ripped.
The motion picture stops.
For he is too late.
He is always too late.
And his 'i love you' goes unsaid.