Blink.
Blink the dust away.
The particles of vacancies because you didn’t stay.
The droplets of memories leaking to different shades of Monet.
Blinks.
For seconds of blackness and rests for what the soul receives
and rejects. Every time these lids fall close, it seems like thieves
will finally stop stealing dreams.
But they don’t.
Blink and blink,
Faster so the eyelashes will flutter
For the caves to open and welcome in crazed butter-
flies, before the bats chase them
through the gutter.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink back to my dearest
unfortunately not my nearest.
Blink again for the heights of happiness.
Of the summit and fall from the crest.
Blink.
A poem I wrote two years ago as a freshman in college, thinking of my high school graduating class and how much I miss them.
