it will always be the way that curtain swayed on the spring afternoon as she left that breaks me down into my elemental sorrow
her scent wafting towards me in a final kiss goodbye as the lace danced in the wake of the slamming door that signalled an ending
there are days i sit sipping coffee with my fingers twitching for a match to strike and reduce the accursed fabric to ash to blow far from here
and then the wildflowers drift towards me with power of pure memory and aching devotion to what is gone that slowly slices my heart
so i watch them twirl with mindless abandon but i am not there they are not real and all i taste is her lips on mine as the rest melts away
Beautiful!
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thank you ma’am
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I absolutely love this!!
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thanks for stopping by and reading. welcome.
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