One day I was told you should write a book but never seem too get that far. These are my shorts

Friday 8 August 2008

not a memory I wanted

falling endlessly
darkness awaits
the stars twinkle and glitter above
darkness surrounds me
no sound
no birds no crickets chirp
only the sound of my own breathing
shallow but even
hard to tell now how far I've fallen
how far into the deep dark pit of sadness I've gone

I close my eyes I see his sleeping face
waxen and caked with morticians makeup
thin so thin
his hands together on his chest still spotted with age
I can't do this I can't see him like this yet I still see him like this
not a memory I want