a dozen red roses now carefully dried bound by a single strand of purple lace perhaps a memory of a love gone by no, not laid down somewhere at eye level but above perhaps as a prayer
how empty is a chair when so many want to sit no, its not the space thats there but all the possibilities that it held when the one that never arrived might have smiled
oh but one taste of her upon my lips but then i would consume her wholly and entirely but then and only then would i know what it is to dance upon stars holding the hand of God