Divorce and Broken Relationships - Wings Left on the Ground, Forever Wondering

I am the stem of a flower
the road home.
I am a walk in an English garden.
I am every goodnight story
that you can barely remember.
I am a caring stroke across your forehead.
I am a gentle breeze
through an open window.

I am waiting...
still
to find those sentiments
those folds within the daylight
that remind me I am still breathing.

You might disagree
but circumstances bleed
a pitiful shade of neon blue.
Neon envelopes the mind
creates a mood swing
oft times too difficult to recover from.
Pitiful wings
left on the ground
forever wondering
if they ever knew flight at all.

Let me hold your hand
or will you hold mine?
Late at night as I lie awake
mistaken about my goals
left over from a whim
and a shadow forming an ill-defined truth.

What treasures are left
I do not know.
I can only tap into a blinded memory.
I forgot to water those petals
vulnerable flower
on the end of a stem
weakened at midnight.

Soft spoken objections
where do we find our voice?
Inside a classic fairy tale
or a statue of grim reaper?
Somehow...
Ophelia is still hopeful
and never met the river at all.

If the end justifies the means
let me reach
unencumbered
toward that dangling hope.
Put a band aid over your own mouth
if you choose
but know it was always me
who needed time to recover.

Did you hear my voice
calling out for you?
Because I confess
the only voice I hear is yours.

What happened to my story
and me?

Angel of death
bring me a fresh palette
let me restore what I once blessed
took in my arms
and felt soothed by.

Let me be
the stem of a flower
the road home
a walk in an English garden.
Enlighten me
refresh my goodnight story
that neither one of us can remember
clearly.
Stroke my forehead
will you?
I need to feel that gentle breeze
through an open window.

I am waiting...
still.

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