But rather, between the spaces of our broken hearts. Where the sun never meets the moon and dreams never meet reality. We shall be but ghosts in our memories of either. We will sleep with empty arms, feeling the air become brisk in midnight's breath.
Already so lonely, and only a night apart. I feel your heart, as if it is mine. Pale are my lips as we have not kissed. I see the lonesome eyes of grief settle upon my hips. Replacing what would be, our moment of bliss.
I cry, oh I cry, but quickly replace my tears with whiskey sips. Staring at the empty side, at which you used to rest. Our music idle in the background of my mind. I replay our dances, our laughs, as if they are but something that just went amiss; waiting for the ship, to return for our kiss.
But this is but a lie, a lie I must not contend. I reply to the open air as death seeps into my chest. Cold, bitter, and I say,
"I am ready, for this is no place for I."
In the rising of the moon, blue, sheen with a crystal hint. Your eyes, I see your eyes, they twinkle among the roaring tide. Pulling the rhythm beneath that which is petrified. And I adorn what I see, but foolish I must seem, screaming out, into the empty night
"Is that you, is that you my dear?"
Delirious I must be, calling out to that which has passed? I, a mess, waiting for death. It seeps into my chest, but I, cannot seem to rest. You were my best, my nest of all my dreams that manifest.
But now I sit alone, quiet and old, either of flesh, or soul, this I do not know. But aged is my heart, this I know to be. For I felt it, in the dying of our love, but I shall cling to it, though, we no longer share the moon.
Some love leave us in life, some love leaves us in death.
Does love ever really go away?
You can find more word such as these in, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words.
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