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The Lost

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With invisible hands she traced the planes of his face
And made a map in her mind of what she saw.
To always remember this, this exact moment,
Because she knew that it wouldn’t last forever.

At the same time a discreet truth flew past the sullen two,
Occupied by the present
But distracted by the past,
It crept on hands and feet to her heart’s desires
Leaving her with nothing but wants.

With trembling steps he walks the path alone,
In search of something he’s never heard of,
And frightened by its purity.
The fractured heart beating in his chest
Is but a memory of what is yet to occur,
And the thing wavering in the distance seems too perfect to be real.

Truth flies to him that night and takes his breath away,
A painful kiss of reality that leaves him whirling,
Wanting more of this exhilaration.
It leaves rubies on its trail,
And the fire burning in his chest ignites,
As he controls this truth.

Now she sits alone, frightened by this thing
That has taken control.
Worried for the sanity and morality of his being
She tries to comfort,
But in doing so finds a new trail of rubies.
She cries for them both.

At this time truth makes its way to his door
And urges him to stop,
Yet the beating in his chest has taken over
And this new realism has him twisted in its vines.
It breathes.





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