sky rise

As our tongues tangoed, as if dictionaries with thesaurus fetishes, I realized this was the best aural sex we had ever had!

The conversing lasted all through the evening and into the better part of the morning, although I have always been hard pressed to understand exactly which part is the better part of any given morning.

I have always found mornings to arrive at such inconvenient intervals in my span of breath and movement.

We spoke with such great fervor for such an extended period of time that our words lingered with us in the small space long after we finally gave in to our oxygen deprived urges of rest.

With barely enough room left for our own persons I opened a window to allow the linguistics to clear themselves from the room and then settled back into my chair.

All was now quiet.

The written word has always been a secretive passion of my own; Secretive seems so out of proportion when in context against a word such as passion, yet within current society such propensities could destroy the very man/woman or anyone that he/she holds endearment with.

Endearment, such things as love cannot ever be taken for granted again.

There once was a day when love was a frivolous act; not anymore. Fragile though the words may be, the actions shatter even more grandly under the lights of today. The lights that bear down upon us as we sleep, wake, or do anything for that matter.

Justice is contained within a faceless regime that maintains eyes and ears then discards the rest.

My pain now resides not within, but beside me.

For this moment that has lasted mere hours shall soon evolve into weeks of hellish descent into madness. They never give death to you, they leave that choice for you; although the idea of choice is very fluid in this instance.

Choice…CHOICE…such words make me laugh now. Not a laugh of wondrous joviality, no those days have long since passed. The laughter that dies within my throat as the dreams of all those around me can never have mirth within them.

As the sun steps in through the cracked window and finds her scarlet hair I can hear the footsteps coming closer.

I no longer care for myself.

She is gone.

The words upon written page can never compare to the voice that brought them to life through her breath.

I watch as the sun rests upon her resting body and I remember the times that are no longer.

The door shatters from its casing and I back against the open window holding my lifeless beloved in my arms.

Eyes and ears are surrounding me and as they lunge for us I lay gently back through the open window of the old sky rise building.

I have had plenty of time to think as we fall down these several stories and it is now, with a gentle calm, that I write my final words within the clouds before my eyes.


















- j.g.smith (03/30/07)