Without Us

We could have been all that ever mattered,

all that flashed between streets of Victorian neighborhoods shot in frames of black and white ,

all that could be concieved from the covenant of rainbows and sand dollars.

For life without love is no life at all.

We could have sat down at the table and drank to memories that shroud the past in kisses of passion that trail themselves into the lense of the camera man.

Valentines would have meant more to us than chocolates in the dark and red wine stains on the carpet. Aniversaries could have seen more than Frank Sinatra songs about ladies and luck.

My love I see that time is sentimental in spite of us and flourishes His clockwise turn against our promise.

Our promise to never spin backwards.

If we can not speak to each other plainly then I will not speak at all.

And if we can not see our counter parts as stars in our own galaxy then tis better never to see again.
O my little flower never wilt for death has claimed too many blooms and it will not devour you as well.
                                      A world without you is no world at all.