I know that you don’t care. It’s just that, in some sort of hypothetical high I believed that you loved me right before you died. I followed a trail of bread crumbs, like Hazel–even if it was just a fable, I would escape if I was able…Bipolar…unstable. Millions of butterflies with bright cherub dreams dancing on her eyelids. He said that the ghosts in the mirror led me there, said I was daringly to follow the white hare, said that I can make you retrace endlessly as you went up the spiral stair to nowhere…
I once lived in a pyramid scheme dream, my mind projected her story like a blue beam…or an Iris in a Garden full of secret circles and dead empires. Like Autumn they dance around my pyre, throwing my memoirs at me and dancing as I burn endlessly…she cries out to be between the twilight fall, calling me home to the golden hall.
Who called the rain? a little laughter in my brain, a little light to cure the pain.
She walked across the bridge through the hail and ice, followed winter wolves through summer and they did not see the world through her eyes. A nuclear explosion that destroyed us all. A million ruby red promises that fell like meteorites into the sea.
A hollow voice at the edge of a ship watching the world drowning in the ocean of emotion. Maybe…
We are reflections of each other.