I am dancing around the fire; or rather the residue of ashes, clinging to the coals, smothered by murder. The tips of my fingers reach out, longing to touch the flames that use to burn so passionately. We both lost the drive of hope somewhere between the ocean’s coast and the roads we once traveled on; repeatedly. You kissed the air between us, the air that reached my inhalation. I reacted, and un-reacted. Squeezing your hand that much tighter, searching for certainty in the depths of you cavity. Every day the thought of what it would be like once we both returned home clawed at my core. Our failure reminds me of foiled plans to discover china in a sandbox, or find butterflies in my bed. Nonetheless, my non-sense was stabilized by your ability to deflect insecurity and place me in a fragile glass box; inscribed with love’s ignored faults and the familiar scent of home. Where is my new lullaby?
p.s. please tell me there will be no goodbyes.
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As promised dear Sha.
ReplyDeleteYour creative growth knows no bounds. With every entry, your words become more vivid and passionate, reflecting what lies in your heart.
As for the writing itself, it pains me.
That was from me, Manuel Derek Anthoni Fralick.
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