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Lost Opportunities
Thousands of petals falling to the ground,
coating the earth’s pale complexion.
Their red hue paints a lipstick veil,
I feel the smooth brown pews slip beneath my fragile fingers.
I hold the withered pages of Gods bible in my hands
reconnecting with lost religion.
He stands at the alter,
a smile pasted to his heroic face,
a stick figure drawn in an unnatural setting.
The organ bellows its final remarks,
The sound resonating from the lemon scented cedar walls.
I brush my chocolate ringlets to the side shading my emerald green eye.
Above are the starry residers of the night’s shadowed guise
barely visible through the water colored stain glass.
The petals hit the rubicund stained runner: welcomed splotches.
Her dress is a lacy white with pearl crescents upon her bosom
Her hair is airy and curls as it brushes upon her face
My gaze reverts to his marbled eyes.
My mind wanders remembering the feel of his lips softly pressed against mine
and the whispers we shared lost among midsummer dreams.
I remember the day I enlisted, the last day I saw him.
If only I wasn’t so late, my lost lover.
Careless “I dos” pass by my ears.
The sound of fancy automobiles pull away from the parking lot.
Everyone has left, I am the lone resider of God’s symbolic kingdom.
All I have left is a shy: “ Please forgive me.”
I feel myself contracting, contorting, shrinking, and molding.
And soon I am no more than a forgotten petal on the alter of abandoned love.
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Favorite Quote:
"Life, he realized, was much like a song. In the beginning there is mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it's the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile." - The Last Song, Nicholas Sparks