Scented flowers

There were scented flowers at each door & window, an afghan covered couch and a marble table out in front, with a breeze that seemed to travel from between each entrance way.

All silent, just thoughts, nothing spoken from whomever dwelled inside. A hollowed out madness carefully designed an outlined ending.

Books ranging from poetry to English literature. An asylum in white remembering an insane ending, far from my rude awakening in sixty-eight.

Rain, no rain, just dry hot coffee or tea, unsweetened with lots of cream.

So scattered about my mind and floor, my pages, written scriptures, poems, dreams & pictures of dead people.

Memories of those lost, just rampaged through my mind, my pages, my bed, left to sheets, fragrances all different never the same.

Insanity came quick, overriding the simple life of family, children, and God. Unsure of my beliefs, nothing definitive, always changing. Filled closets with bones along time ago

Lost to whoever slept beside, I could never gain the nerve to truly absorb their essence.

Only one seemed so shy & untouched, her kisses wet and desirable, I couldn't help but to watch her as she moved from room to room on a search to find a soul to obtain & hold.

Together we lied on the floor, as she told stories told to her, like molded scenes from dreams of younger years. With tears that smeared upon my arms, as I held on to her, she slept for hours.

Then the images she would remember, so eager to tell, as the sun rose from the opening of her eyes, out between her lips and thighs, to a kiss within a smile. From all my pages scattered throughout, she'd attempt to organize.

Then things began to change, she began to change, a deadening came, as the breeze stopped to overwhelming rains, the thunder that scared her violently.

"The thunder tares me inside," she screamed. Gripping me tight, "I'm scared," "It's just a bad dream, that's all just a bad dream."

She never was the same, she embraced me, telling me, I'm yours, from your pages, you've become what I was searching for!, "I'm your soul"

I told her, "I can't, I can not go back."
After I slept & awakened to no lips nor thighs.

I found my pages neatly formed into books and a soul I will forever hold, yet she was gone.