3 Retrogrades & A Sleeping Venus

Floating

We hold hands as we look down at the lights

Our laughter fills the air

We thought we could roam forever

But soon our laughter stopped

and the breeze grew too strong

We lost our bearings, and all that was familiar to us became distant to us.

Our hands became clammy

Now, unattached, we float through life as though lost in a black-hole

The smell of burning trees leading me to you whimsically

 

A presence I cannot see or (that I) hide if need be

you became an inconvenience

An unwelcome being.

 

As I touch base, I look up and see you perched on top of a mountain

I call out

send directions

Yet you refuse to accept the end of our floating dispositions

 

Even though we no more hold hands, we still hold the strings to each other’s heart

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