jing-ang-411522-unsplashThey tumble forward..
My words, wet, stained on these pages
The tears fall and carry away the memories
The hairs on my arm, tingling against the winter air
My joyous anticipation at the sound of laughter
The wistful gaze of cupid dancing between the shadows
The abyss seeping into the ground
of Father Winter’s abode
The sun’s rays woven into dreams of warm, sandy shores
Breathing in the sweet summer night
Listening to the hard, rhythmic, repetitive beats
The music of transcendental conversations which bleed into the morning
The moment when
any smell intoxicating
any sound was illuminating
any sight imperfectly perfect
A life filled with passion, leaves

Lost, in the chaos, are my tears
A lead whose stories will remain unwritten
On a cliff’s edge without any balance


Photo by Jing Ang on Unsplash