The end, will
come--arrive in grandeur
like fall falling
upon us unprepared
I will forget to be
sad
no longer hoping
remembering, recalling every excruciating detail
every action, a wrong choice
and hateful regret of your smiles and my
hesitations
haltingly, jerkily moving forward then creeping back into the black wormhole
to hide from fear
to be safe from God-knows-what
we did to dare to feel, to go forward in that dreaded word
and backward again--like a drifting
thought
places will no longer be special
private meanings a mere joke, a satire of my desire
which is in itself silly
Nothing will signify anything
worthy of my attention or time
or lingering
Movement
will replace the frozen time--stagnant
and breeding maggots
to feed upon my cherished girlish fancies
I will go to places
take off
and leaf
and fly
if I can only find that wind which
will take me away
and make me forgetful
blisssfully