DEAD FLOWERS - Laszlo Kugler (summer books txt) 📗

Dead Flowers

DEAD FLOWERS

 

I lay invisible dead flowers at your feet.

An offering as good as I am capable of giving.

My hands are not able of holding anything living.

You seem to look my way, and I sigh.

I know better.

I am not here for you to see.

I stand up and instantly fall into you ebony eyes.

They are darker than the space between lost stars .

You turn and I follow, refusing to let you go, to let go of the past;

the past we shared together not long ago.

‘Till death do us part’ were our vows.

Never did I realize the full meaning of those few immortal words.

Never did I expect the ‘reality’ of that statement to ever manifest itself.

Now you are ‘there’, and I am ‘here’...wherever ‘here’ may be.

A curtain of flesh cleaves our universes into very different spaces.

It is said ‘Love endures to eternity’.

Maybe that is true, but not here and not now.

Perhaps in different dimensions; in different ‘realities’ it may be true.

...I’m not so certain anymore.

 

You wake.

I stare.

You get ready for a new day.

I wait.

You leave.

I follow...with a sad heart.

 

On the bus I stand watching you.

You stare out at the stores as they fly by on this busy street.

Stores we use to frequent together.

Perhaps you are remembering days when we kissed out near the bearded barley,

when we swore never to part...never to let go.

Bare feet and a daisy wreath on your windswept hair graced your already god-given beauty.

Your pastel flowered dress playing in the summer breeze... I will never forget.

“It’s you and me forever,” you swore as we fell among the tall golden sheaves.

“Muirneoidh mé choíche thú,” you promised.

I was never happier.

That was many months ago...more like an eternity.

 

The seat next to you is now vacant,

so I move closer and try to touch you with hopeful fingers.

You close your eyes.

I imagine your lips are forming my name.

The area where my heart used be, feels an odd warmth.

“Muirneoidh mé choíche thú,” you whisper...which I quickly repeat.

You slowly turn towards me, but you look through me.

Yet there was a slight hesitation...small, but there nonetheless.

“Who am I ? What’s my name ?” I ask you.

"You almost said it out loud just now.”

I ask again waiting for you to repeat it.

Images of our life flash before me, but I can’t really remember much of my own past life...

especially such things as who I am or anything before meeting you.

Why is the past so sketchy?

 

I reach to brush your long hair away from your eyes, as I’ve done so often before.

My hand passes though your errant locks.

Are my eyes playing tricks, or did a single strand flip over; due to my touch?

Was it a mere breeze?

No...couldn’t have been...shouldn’t have been...not on this stuffy, airless bus.

My hopes are renewed.

I leaned in to kiss you, but this time there wasn’t any response.

Why can’t I just move on?

No one on the whole damn bus even hears my cries...they wouldn’t care even if they did.

 

 

 

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Publication Date: 04-28-2014

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