a parallel of some past dream
maybe in another universe
when the outcome might have shifted
clouds of pink and blue
overtake the senses
the scenery down below
breath taking
somewhere between now and everywhere
we’ll meet
ignoring thorns and bristles
of the language we no longer speak
how ridiculous of a dream
to think we’d ever meet again
when all you’ve done is run away
from anchoring down and taking responsibility
but still i’ll hope
ignoring faith
that existence is far more
then my world bargained for
don’t forget me over time
please remember all my suffering
so my image
might live on
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This phrase “ignoring thorns and bristles
of the language we no longer speak”
is sheer beauty. Communication can be quite prickly.