I lie in width and wallow in length. We can die a thousand times and I’d still remember your face. Your name burns with the moon as I transcend. It’ll be a hundred million years and I know we will meet again. You make moments out of nothing, scents out of what used to be. Words seem to ricochet off what could have been. A cliche in the wind, a walk down the street we had left each other in. You make moments out of touching and longing out of more than something.
June 2021
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Read more: untitled post 74
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Read more: untitled post 75
Some things are exactly how we leave them. Years go by and we long, passion builds, loss extends and we miss forbidden memories. Every once in awhile I long for what used to be instead of what is. I remember how I left it, last words said, how your voice echoes. It’s not sadness. It’s not quite happiness. It was bittersweet. Things were bittersweet. I still think of it quite often and wonder if the memories for you ever soften.
