Regarding our relationship; many times I have become lost
within a dream and have lain
reaching.
I found it inquisitive, the ponderation, as I reasoned
with the muddling thought
why you had
left
…Leaving me to drown within a dark and empty void.
I found it heartbreaking,
What had become
of us…
Your remaining stationery as you stood on the outer rings of Saturn
and I decaying within an elliptical
orbit
whilst I revolved around you until
there was nothing left
of me…
She
was not
always conventional
in the manner she
approached
things
one
would consider traditional. She found it and affront
on her individuality. An ideology
others may find
atypical.
She, not adhering to what is customarily common, refers to
one’s dictated behavior, one may find
more prevalent than their
predecessors.
found her rather refreshing and quite unique.
Pulsating, the blood coursing
through her
veins,
entering within the chambers of her heart, beating as a drum
within her breast, revealing
her existence.
Realizing I have always thought of her being a figment
of my vivid imagination,
For she to inhale and exhale breaths of air, as do I,
once I felt unimaginable.
I find myself at a loss, ignoring her for as long as I had. Finding her
an avoidance, fearing if I had acknowledged
her presence,
I would have become as lost within her, more so
then I become lost within
myself.
I beckon the night, the moon and stars to appear within,
the soft whispering of her voice
to hear.
To realize she has been as alone as I, praying
for more than a moment of
companionship,
One praying to draw
me nearer…
These words I would speak to her, one now clinging to my heart;
I long for more than another moment with her
within the long and lonely hours
of the night.
A gentle one, always remaining
near and besides…
Infrequent, as her arrival has become if I were to compare
it to Jupiter’s elliptical orbit
around our
sun,
will have become long and weary…
It has been nearly twofold, the increments of time
which have passed. And I. longing to
once again, gaze at her
countenance.
If it were not for the letters I have kept, nothing more of her
would have remained, excepting a twice-wept tear
and the remembrance of
her fragrant
scent.
About James Sterling
James began writing at the age of 13, and he has published about 12500 pages of poetry on Facebook! He retired from work at the age of 62.
James is proud to share that he never edits what he has written, and that is the beauty of his writing!!
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