When you miss the taste of a sweet conversation where you want to just forget the beginning that always aims for the end. And when you long for the words that roll on top of one another like tumbling hays on a breezy summer afternoon of sweet autumn days. You’ll search for me. And I’ll think of you. And we’ll dwell in our own sweet memories. Of a time when seconds lasted years, and of swimming in the concoction of words and passionate thoughts and jubilant imagination where the air the we breathed.
Day in day out until we took away the breath out of each other and collapsed into blissful joy.
And what is heaven if not a satisfied soul of a life fully lived.
I’ve tasted morsels of heaven and at times it pains to live and breathe and taste the soil of the earth.
And I wonder why people mourn of death.