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Feb 2014
There lies, at the hour of separation-
A brief moment where your thoughts
collide into one convoluted jumble of
remorse and a deep presence to understand
the feelings of emptiness
which currently reside at your core

The taste of leftovers, leftover
on your lips-
Begging for a reunion
A longing to recover
and a sensual desire to reminisce

The brush of barren skin against yours
Leaves and imprinted impression on your body
As the clay molds its shape into form, and color
Or lack of color-

The expedition of nakedness
The emptiness you're left with
When the untying ofΒ Β fingers
who were once clasped so tightly together

That feeling; Evades you
Slowly dissipates into uncharted territory

A vulnerable sense of direction-
Terrifies you, makes you shake
in your bones

You begin to understand, when
someone parts from you physically
all feelings fade into a memory,
a moment one could never return to

No matter how tightly you hold on
You can cling and claw at the moment
never to end

But you can never get it back

It's as though you've entered a dream
A weary existence
It poses the question
That what you've experienced
was ever even real to begin with

If you're lucky enough, or rather
unlucky enough, depending on the
given situation

To replay, fast forward, and rewind
Those fleeting moments in your mind

Whether or not you're capable of such abilities
precedes any notion that regardless of what you do
You can't be the "you", you were five, ten, fifteen minutes ago

Life is the clay, constantly molding, shaping
reshaping and reforming itself with each day.

Every second, minute and hour

Eventually you'll dry up
like a dead and wilted flower

You'll be just that

A ceramic piece of art
Forever lost in the echos of time and space

Shadow-less; in a world filled with shadows
Β© 2014 Christina Jackson
Christina Jackson
Written by
Christina Jackson  29/F/FL, USA
(29/F/FL, USA)   
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