After each day of work, we came to lie parallel with each other, on opposite sides of our little box.
You never asked me what my favorite color was. Instead the real first question you asked me was, "What would it feel like to freely float in space? You know that freedom that we don't have?"
"I don't know," I replied, "but I bet it would be wild."
Each of those nights, I drank from page after page of your adventures and exploits in hopes of quenching the need to know more.
You lured me into the inescapable maze of your soul in search of hidden doorways, precarious traps, and lost worlds.
YOU ARE READING
Roses and Candles
PoetryThe letters written for my first. An encounter from a dream that could've been more but never progressed far enough to be a happy ending; A collection of scenes, not enough to create a movie, that's settled in the depths of my beating heart; A stri...
