You’re not real.
(were you ever?)
Simply a figment of my imagination.
Something and someone conjured
during a time of vulnerability.
Now and again
(I swear)
I remember pieces of tangible.
Lips
fingertips
and
warm breath
filled with words of desire
seeping through to saturate gentle, curious, tongues .
And, what of the olfactory moments –
heated, cologne whispered, skin
left on sheets – so long ago laundered.
Bringing back your non-existent ways.
It is a place where we all must go alone.
Where we deal with loss without encumbrance’s and outside noise.
Where we lay ourselves down on a bed of soft, pink, sand and let the ocean of salt water tears wash over us.
Cleansing our souls and purifying our minds.
It is a secret place that can only be found when ones heart is truly feeling and open.
Vulnerability is a requirement, as is humility and gentle compassion for one’s self.
It’s where you go to make things right.
So that you may, in the future, walk in the land of love once again.
The secrets whispered through moist, teary, lips will float forever in this land.
And the word “almost” is the sentry…
(an older piece written in August of 2008)
Candy Coated Musings... 