Please. Please don't look at this in the wrong way. It does not end in suicide. It is not all bad. It is life. If that bothers you, I'm sorry.
Flowing rivers of evanescent color, shimmering in the light, encircle pooling darkness.
I am lost.
Speechless.
No image can exist in my mind without your image branded on it.
No word can pass my lips unless it follows, like a tail does a graceful comet, your name.
No day can pass without wasted wonders, what ifs, and the word why.
Racking my consciousness wasting away in rank dreams.
Why is it that of the million stars I chose the one farthest away?
Why is it that, bound in chain, I chose the one free moving, free form, free spirit?
Why.
The word wanders through the wafting spaces in my mind, without remorse, recklessly pulling thoughts from doors long under lock and key.
I see you in the word, in it's ever pressing hold on the placid pieces of this heart, seeping slowly through the cracks, the imperfections, into the silence within.
I see you.
Every time I close my eyes, and in every tear tumbling down my face.
I feel you.
In the warm embrace of fire, and in the chilling pain as my heart chips away.
I hear you.
In the whispers of the wind, and in the screams in a tortured soul.
Through all this.
Everything.
I have one last thing to say.
I'm sorry.
