• misspuvi1808

At A Loss Of Words.

And when I leave, ask for the little black notebook which carries most of my soul. The tattered pages heavy with ink words and thoughts said and unsaid stacked up with scribbles and doodles tear stains, tea stains, smiles that stay frozen at a moment bygone like a pressed flower between the papers; ask for the book and light it on fire just like the coffin watch as the edges of the pages glow like the lit lamp in front of my picture watch the flames

hungrily lick every letter of every word in desperation to hold on to keep burning watch all my writings bow down to it almost as if it's a sacrificial execution just a few moments before they shine a little brighter, as if taking and making one last breath, one last prayer, one last wish, before they turn into ashes and become one with the wind that carries the smokes rising high to where I am; to a place where instead of desperately trying to make sense of the pieces of my mind I'm at peace in a place where I am at a loss of words at last.