melted

poet to poet: 040890

it's a year's grace that has brought your face closer to mine. i smile with closed eyes, to capture the moment. maybe i hope you did the same. the pictures i have of you are all memory-worn, torn and restored, over and over.

maybe i hope that you know that i think about you a little bit less now. the future favors the meek, they said, but i see you plastered all over the news. you had flair and passion intertwined in that kind smile, it was obvious to everyone that could see it. the mirror twists so much, and the foil that gilds an era tears apart to leave only me.

it's been a year, and i look at my feet, hoping they will guide me. i still stumble and fall, and the snow still freezes at the sight of my helplessness. i still chatter on, shivering in a cold-weather sweater, unable to see your face. i bundle up for freedom while i burrow down for protection, unwilling to learn that i cannot have both.

i'm trying to wake up from an endless rest, but when does the dream end and life begin? there was too much you wanted to see with your eyes shut. unlike you - i presume, for nobody will ever know - i fidget and fumble in the dark, waiting for your embrace to reignite me, but i fizzle when you fall.

now that winter is here again, i must wait for spring, but when i get out of bed then, you will forget to follow. maybe i hope that when i look up, you'll be there. and that when the night sky beams blue, that i'm right.

i smile with my eyes closed. i want both of us in this picture.

i miss you.

in wanting to give you only the most perfect of words, i ran out of time. artist's folly, i suppose. from poet to poet, i know you understand. from heart to heart, i can only hope. time ticks from gloomier clocks than mine, and you with your watchful eye, little prince on a star nearby, have all the moments in the universe now. you do not drift far from me, as a command, as a promise. you will always be my truest blue.