You were someone’s-someone, once. Such as, those many wanting more than just enough. A young wife given to the vow of love. Had you not been tangled up in someone else’s blues? Would I have known you, the way in which I have imagined you?
Had I known this would have been our last embrace. Would I have given more than I take. I summon up that specter steeple. As well as, that rare smile that graced your face. Even now, I ask the hereafter, with quiet reservation, who does not falter? ♥ Ominous choices of two forks in the road. ‘No, you did all you could. How were you to know. She always likened herself to beauty being bold.’ ♥ Those were the days of romantic sobriety. Young love in tarnished hands. A reckoning of waters, so still they moved. I moved. You moved. ♥ I am perpetually swayed back to that secular summer place… with the worshipers in the sun’s face. The only thing I knew to do was offer a way to leave. Proposing a week’s reprieve. ♥ Seven days. It moved me. It moved you. And, at the time,
that was the best that we could do.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)