I had a love once.
Who died, in a chemical disaster.
Accidental. Or was it, did I wish it?
Hear his screams at night.
Guilty forever.
But what do you have to feel guilty about when you live in the future?
Our love is on screens and not in words.
I have forgotten the words, time and time again.
Memory loss.
A scene from my favorite movie, writing cryptic.
After all, these are just love notes to you.
I’d do anything to be in that moment again,
and that one.
With you, or that one.
A moment, you know the ones,
that burns us deep, that we want to see
again obsessively, again repulsively
We often drove through the wilderness,
before we couldn’t remove
the nightmares.
As we floated in space,
I always wanted to write about you.
It was happening, now. I was lost in my thoughts.
The past. Like always.
Even as this feeling of restlessness was faithfully lifted there was that sinking feverish thought of loss swirling in my mind.
The haunted part, dark spot.
I will always have regrets.
The loss is of myself.
I have written that time and time before.
Different voices spoke it, but I kept it near.
Spent too much time, oh what was it again?
Lost in the future, chained by the past,
Searching for that, pounding nervous skip.
Searching for that, sloppy kiss.
Searching for that, spark of driving response
Searching for that, heaven spot.
GERALD LEWIS BLANCHARD 