Wandering Alone, Together

There's a love of mine left hanging in the window. Like windchimes, it sings the saddest song in the wind of wonder. A wind of why's and who's left it there. In all of my confusion, the delusion that you would soon resurface like fish in need of oxygen was prevelant in my discretion. The descreete discrepancy left a stitched wound I began to lick. I had to save myself somehow before a scab could hold in the pain I pleaded to release my anguish. I dream about you now and then, wanting and wishing money could bring you back like a well of false hope. A collection of non-existant memories. Who am I that my wish is more important than those that have stopped by previously? Who am I to love a woman so beautiful in all she is. Flaws as ugly as the beast that beauty could behold? Who am I to call her flaws ugly when I too have unattractive matchings? Maybe this false hope, this wish could bring us closer like a negative and positive. A yin and yang on the spiral of completion. I can't bare to watch you walk away, to fade into the place so many other made their destination. This pain feels as complicated as contractions completing the steps in which I can to earth too soon. Forcing me into a place where survival was the first instinct instead of crying to breathe. My love runs deeper than any ocean, waving to you a hello my eyes cannot come to show. I love you is never enough to confess the complexities in which you are the apple of my eyes. I say eyes because I do not see you with just one, I see you with two. Your heart is like a kaleidoscope, despite the fact many have shattered it over and over, it still shines, displaying a luminescent glow, showing just how much your inner matches your outter. Someday, I hope to cross the same path I've crossed once before. For now, I stand contiguous, doing my own thing, but somehow still thinking of you as my feet take me on a journey full of dreams I aspire to reach. I'll always think of you, always loving a sweet and sensitive soul. Secretly trying to control the beating I feel should we meet again.

This poem is about: 
Me

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