A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
Are you real? just like the images that arrived before your appearance, now standing by my arm? so near my flesh, my heart? How could I ever imagine you? materialized? in this scope where I look out? seek you? A thousand puzzle pieces could not assemble a vision so pure, so real, forcing me not to believe what is real — the flesh of you, so near a cavern echoing, filled with your multiplying voices, calling so near my beating existence. A river of blood absorbs your impactful light. Let me take a moment to breathe, as if my first inhale of the most premium air. Let this be my life beginning again. Are you real? or imagined, like the poem? 8.2.21 xx lines, x verse Written to Pink duet (aloof on title, they all sound the same), half dreaming if ever to meet a celebrity like her, how we would communicate, knowing it would be difficult to impress upon someone so in demand. You would have to openly declare this, why they would have the feintest interest to commune with words I could share. Since I'm making stuff up, I should write fiction and get paid. My net worth is not in a well stocked cache of managed funds/accounts but in a heart devoid of the true appreciation of just one who fully gets me. |