LOST ART AND POETRY

I lost my sight so slowly when I stepped into the room covered in art; it reminded me of the times that still haunted my heart. I was there to read my poetry with my new love and not recall memories of you above. I just wanted to lay down and cry and die again like I did when you took your last breath, and I took mine.

Even though the art was not yours, it felt like your ghost was in the doorway saying I miss you as well, but you are the poet with the story to tell of our heaven and hell.

This lost art, and these words are our eternal love story continuing to be told even if it is no longer my body you hold, my darling. She got my smile and laughter, but most importantly, when you wished upon that shooting star, I gave her my soul to comfort you.

It is all lost art and poetry being held by the universe, and do not worry any longer, for you no longer need to carry that guilt or sorrow, for we all are only borrowed for a little while. We need to go back home again, but with your evolving words, I sent you your lover and best friend while you saw the art of the past and your poetry that will always seem to last.