Good Bye Reason

I miss you, to the point that you would not even begin to believe. I base my entire life on fairy tales and comic books, so all I have is illusion. Somewhere I believe you and I could have made a difference. We were meant to be, as the stars told when they were born from the shining star of the first nebula. Instead, we burned reason and attacked each other and for that I can only be sorry. All I have are words, minus this time. I am willing to be a spectre of linguistsics and instead an unstoppable force. My tears fall like rain when my mind wanders to our sacred home. Only fear and pride stop me now from contacting you and that all slowly fades. I just languish at the though of your spurned words again. After all, what worse a fate than the assualt of the tongue on unhardened flesh.

My thoughts are like lightning, for they never strike but once to the current and once to the past...when I would see your shining eyes, those brilliant orbs that my horrendous vision could behold and know what lies beneath...how I miss them. Your touch, lavender and honey flowing about me is lost like the rivers of time. That sacred scent of the most luxurious blossom all but forgotten yet to these insane passages. That chorus of angels that flowed throughout you and gave birth to a wave riding harmony, what I would not sacrifice and that which I do not know could not compare.

Sometime, I will wake myself with the passion and explore this notion and be forever mourned as the last fool. She wakes herself in joy with her new lover and all I can hope for is a never truer smile from those sweet lips. I would gladly abstain myself if I knew there would be better for the either and yet I cannot stop but feel the pull of one heart and I wonder if I have lost my only mind in this abyss called love. A fisherman can cast his net, yet even he must have known the one that would feed him for years to come.

Like the magnifying lens of justice, there is a peering light on those fragile carapaces that only seeks to explore the unknown. All the while, threatening from above with death's cold, calculating precision. Spring like hops of sex-music lead down a path where the stars fade and light becomes hope of the zone of essence. Remembrance follows sorrow and joy down by the keeper of iron and sits patiently. At the time of this passing I am 23 years born, 5 knowing of that person and I still have not forgotten. I could name every detail, down to the scars and passion. I could accommodate every last minutia down to the teachings from one to the next. I could...I am responsible for mistakes that know no bounds...yet aren't we all? In the end, doesn't the coin and dark recesses of our mind lash out and cut down at the strongest of oaks in our twilight forest? Could not the tides break down the beach until soggy sand waits for the sun to bake life into it?

Well, here's the first steps as a man of soggy sand. I'm sure of failure and secretly hope for success.