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.


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