One day, I know,
I'll forget to remember,
the perfect day for a murder and a wedding.
One morning I'll rise all soul,
wondering what took me so long.
For all the times we found our calling,
they called us back to our clothing,
yet we thought through the blackout,
so higher we are than our own clouds.
Between my past and us was
explosive barbed wire;
you got me through without a scratch.
Where is my romantic side,
you asked my yawns,
and I said I killed a child, sure,
but kept the casket as a necklace;
how was I to know the memory
would last longer than the moment?
You found my picture and,
instead of running, you stayed,
said you liked it.
I said I'm trying to find it;
my next birthday should be
ten years ago.
I know we're growing up,
but can we please be kids
just one more time?
YOU ARE READING
Flights of Fancy
PoetryThere is another dimension beyond that which is known to fictional characters. A collection of short stories, poems, snippets, vignettes, and everything else that crosses my mind and has no place in my current publications, or is waiting in the wing...
