Blogging · Fiction · stories

Walking Down the Road…

 

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The want of motion

the absence of breeze, the ripples

in the clouds, the warmth tells me something

of what I’d forgotten,

 

I told her, countless stories

anything to make her smile, and then

if she would accept, my words of want, then I

would want her, and the pleasures that would bring,

 

Walking down the road, unending, not twisting

either, nor turning back on itself,

just a walk of life, with someone like you,

the want of need, the need for love, you take my breath away,

 

The signals that you were sending, told me of the way

of the perils of traveling, the branches hanging low, scratching

my face, the tangled tales, of my stories, darkened, so much that rain

drowned the skies, and swept me away from you…

 

Torrents of tales that told of the unhappy lovers, who tore and scratched,

pushing and pulling their hearts into pieces, which broke off and flew

away, and flew away,

 

My stories seemed to lighten a bit, as my prose flowed along the curves of

your hair, and swept along your cursive smile, just not in Italics

You spoke only in CAPITAL LETTERS, while I dreamed a dream of a story

you once told me, of love and desire, and how he,

brought you to his lair, enticing, enticing

 

And wished that it had been me that swept you off your feet, and carried you over

the next, and the next again, the hills and craggy mountains of my memory, until I

set you upon the road, winding, and twisting, what we were not promised at all,

the road was to be?

 

My stories wove around, your stories, and they fell in love with each other on the sunniest

of all days, when the birds sang, and the sun shone, and, and, and…

And when I awoke once again, I sat along side the road, wanting to see who would come

over the last hill, heading towards me….

 

And your countenance showed the sun what it meant to smile, and shine,

and I beamed from ear to ear, when you said words to me, not in capitals,

anymore,

just soft intentions, with the smallest of letters, which told me of your gentleness, and of

the road, winding, taking me and my stories,

and you and your memories,

together we went, until the story ended,

not written by me, neither by you,

but a common ending

all the same…..

 

I walked upon a road, together…..

 

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11 thoughts on “Walking Down the Road…

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