It looks like the end,
Opening my eyes,
Seeing her glory
Like fading sunlight
Sending showers of orange autumn leaves
Melting like whispers in my dreams.
The air is kissing her skin, and then it’s kissing mine,
and I am a sleepwalker through her golden life.
Everything fades to bronze and red.
Drawing aside the curtain of tears,
angels’ faces ride every shoulder.
Waking is the hardest part of life,
Then living is like walking in a dream
Sending flowers to a friend
Who isn’t home.
It’s just the beginning.
Names don’t change.
Apologies can’t be spoken.
Girls walk away clean,
And all that’s left is the sleepwalking
With open eyes through their golden lives,
And then writing about it,
Like a letter-to-the-editor.