SergetheGreat

Today, you asked, "What did you do?" Today, I said, "You were mine."

With everyone gaze you plant upon me With every word you give me With every tear you bring me Pieces of you drain Drain into my Soul Into my Mind My heart

Trying so hard to keep the thought of you from my mind, it seems that only within the darkest of memories, the loveliest of thoughts, you are in the center of it all.

Sweet Novocain, paralyze me, drain me, numb me. Rid this foul stench of jealousy, fear, and paranoia; all of which that pierce my soul, weild this from my being. My marrow heart, full of burden and a guard made of hurt iron. Sweet, sweet Novocain; bring me to my knees, fill my heart-shaped wound, and stitch these torn sutures.

What you are is not derived from Mother Earth, the hands of God, or the warm torso of mother. Your moist palms, slapdash hair, oval lips and, softened eyes - Your warm laughter, embracing smile, addicting persona - all of which a gift of the heavens. Fell from the stars, you have. And every portion, every bit; had fallen into the welcoming embrace of my arms.

She takes me to the window. I tell myself, "Go ahead." I'm waiting to exhale. Odd buildings, lovely buildings. People in the city rarely look up and I never look down. Uncomfortable vertigo. My nerves stir, as I press my palms to the panes. Thin glass. A radical departure from the center to this edge. The clouds and rain whirl within each other brushing against my protected fingertips. I sit back down, now. She smiles at my distress. So sweetly, change is the essence of life. But my perfectly preserved phobia will not permit this. To sit back down, now from my nightmare in the sky.

Let your static imagination fly like butterflies in shades of gray. The downtown man in delicate polyester tie and green paisley jacket. The sweet, sweet girl with her miniskirt receeding just several inches each trying to climb higher than mean to be. It's not that complicated, really. We all want to be strong players, Guiness World Record sports (holders.) NY Times front page makers. But, only the truly bizarre appear to grab the light. Those who own up to their weirdness. On the top of the floor, all the windows are missing. Just look through the view finder and press the shutter release.

I sigh jealousy, watching sweet hearts sitting on stones beside the creek. Young, so young, unknowing we were once there. Fifteen years ago. You and I cradled. So happy. (I remember those feelings.) I think of you often. Time will not erase my bittersweet memories. Forever is a word that comes easily to young lips. Forever in my heart, perhaps. Then they both leave arm in arm as thoughts of you walk away with them.