White Dwarf

Yearning for better days,

a constant crescent of a smile,

by mere circumstance conditioned to let go,

to set free,

to leave a hollow heart,

an empty space once filled,

of trees, of crunching autumnal leaves,

of innocence laying on the grass,

of waxing smiles,

of constellations drawn in the sky.

The scent becomes faint,

of fresh lavender and pheromones,

fresh mint at dawn,

the paleness of the day,

reflects the image of the skin that still remains,

photocopied as synapses,

that linger in the mind,

and the gentle velvet feeling,

of mountains through the hands.

Hopeful landscapes filled with trees,

mountains, and blue skies,

of travel, of an intertwined freedom

dissipate in the abyss

of uncertainty and denial,

an opaque star,

that once fissioned with intensity,

might become a white dwarf.

O.N.