suspended by a breath,
reading these old love letters
that smell of roses and jasmine
and hearing the sounds
of angels sighing and
the fluttering of doves' wings
outside my window.
In this strange suspended animation,
I can still hear the words
of love that you spoke,
I can picture your face,
pale and serious
in the moonlight
and I suspect that
we got lost that night
and fell into a dream,
a terrible dream of loss and separation
from which we can't awaken.
But in a moment,
we'll both wake up,
and laugh, incredulous,
because we would never
lose each other in the crowd,
we would never fall apart at the seams.
© Copyright 2016 Violet Vane. All rights reserved.
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