Dark Poetry Prose Poetry June 17, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

06-17-05 9:56pm friday

maybe next time. if we can. dreams of wishing on those dandelions. and chasing fireflies.

like when we were young. and nothing hurt except scrapes and bruises. the skin our only oppressor as we'd chase life by the tail and be contented in our dizziness.

life tends to happen while you're sitting waiting for it to begin.

and people tend to love that which they know won't ever love them.

becuase it often is easier to lay in that despair than to confront yet another blank page.

maybe next time. or if not, we'll always have our somedays. like butterflies we watch as they alight upon open palms in the stark light of sweaty summer aches.

dripping with everything you've ever felt.

gagging on the smell of your own pain.