The keychain hung from the hook
On the wall next to the jacket rack
Worn and torn as it was always with her;
Sparkling of favorite colors in the right light of silver and blue;
Though showing signs of use and age.
A niece who be-gifted for Christmas
Heartfelt reminders of family all in a mermaid’s tale;
Those we cherished and how we are always together;
In small of ways even when we are apart.
I hated feeling like I had to change.
That I had to censor and alter
My thoughts and opinions that kept swiriling.
The things I wanted and wished for
Dreaming big and bigger ideas.
It whispered about a type.
I was intrigued because of the conversation
As it was so transparent it was like
Hearing voices so causal in conversing
That it struck by on repeat
In wanting to know the answers.
Questions lingered in connection
To words said with such a heavy heartfelt sigh
Like he knew her at all through a picture.
There were days when it all felt so heavy
Like the rain played a perfect part in echoing the sadness.
Wondering if this was why Mr. Twain like the Northwest.
The low fog that hung thick and heavy over the rough waters.
Seasonal depression seem to hit extra hard
In shifting through the wreckage that came with this last years passing.
Mountain views and river sides do not even look the same;
Life kept going and it did not even seem to matter;
Nothing seemed to matter or feel the same.
Uncertainty came once again with so many missing answers.
A big hole that seemed to concave with each breath;
Lost rhythm and sounds that seemed muffled by the down pour.
He wanted her. He wanted her hand.
What he aimed for every morning tying up his boots.
She was the fire to the ice cold snow storms.
A shot of whiskey aged ten years.
He would chase her to the ends of the earth.
Forever he dared and promised,
If he died a tragic death that he would come back.
Find a way for a second chance.
To ask her for her hand in another life time.
He loved her from the moment he saw her.
The kind of feeling that only hits you once,
If you’re lucky. That kind of love that burns,
Brighter than the sun but hits like an eclipse.
Slowly almost unnoticed, until realizing,
And wondering why it is dark at noon.
It just felt so easy.
Up in this cloud
Where love could bloom.
There was so much wrong in this world.
Plagues and poverty. Hunger and insanity.
It wasn’t a break up or despair.
Sadness or misery, or things just not meant to be.
Rather just lost until it came rushing;
Crumbling every belief that it could be anyone else.
So many other things that could spark inspiration,
To bring awareness.
Instead finding that I could not stop writing about love.