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Ethereal Fathoms
June 20, 2016
You don’t fathom;
I’ll fly away like a shooting star
barely here long enough for you to notice, ruptured attempts of
trying to light you--
I didn’t make it into your treasure,
those people you love--
Nor your possessions,
the scrapbook of people you love--
Instead I spent my nights dreaming,
that you would pick me up with scooped hands--
And when I was distant,
you traced disintegrated arcs in the sky. . .
reality is fleeting,
I’ll leave;
ruptured attempts of trying to love you
© Joey M., Spokane, WA
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feeble poetry