Smudges
Indelible ink and fingerprints,
What's left now lover?
Is it all smudges and emptiness?
Is there more?
Is there more than this?
Do you still dance in the hallways of my dreams?
Have I imagined this all?
Who's ink is this on my fingers?
And who's fingerprints?
Is it just me finger painting alone?
Photos of pictures of moments of the past.
All dancing behind my eyes.
"Endlessly", she said, as her voice trailed away into nothingness.
Nothingness?
Or just a corner where the softest most unguarded bits are?
He thinks to himself, "Perhaps, perhaps I lost my name."
It's only family that calls me that anymore. Perhaps out of habit.
Perhaps out of memory for who I was.
These days he looks for Solace behind his eyes rather than in a bottle.
But Solace is hard to find and harder to come by.
Chances pass. Dreams Fade. Perhaps this is the lesson Everything was trying to teach me. Flailing and kicking and destroying all hope.
Blow a kiss to the stars Boy. That's the only way to kiss them these days.
The Moon is far, far, away. So distant, so cold, so similar in memory, but so staggeringly different in practice.
