Blossom Time on Eastern Parkway.

It's Spring. Again.

Rebirth. And yet memory falls backwards when I sweep the browned leaves on the hardwood floor that were dragged in by the day's mishaps.

...smitten kisses were supposed to line the brownstone heavy blocks.

Thick heavy spring wind was suppose to lift me, but its hankering me down. It lies in my throat.  It hurts more than I can justify.

Somehow what has changed still feels snow covered.  And then you ask me, as I shiver, where do you store all that immutable feeling?

 It is rusting dangerously in my head my love. Or maybe in my core- whichever one you shall chose to ignore.

Time is moving too fast and my bones and muscles are getting worse.  

Just recently they searched my spine for an ancient disease.

I thought by now this would be a faint panicked memory of the past safe enough in its Kodachrome edited distance.

But destiny has a different ticket for me and its a long ass ride to China.

I just realized that this passing phase was really a choice. One you're quite happy with.

You always seem so very very happy. No one will ever get in your way again.

I admire you. You know how to live. Perhaps you were right about me. Not...enough.

Time might even be moving backwards.  Or at least I am tripping backwards. Falling on my own words,  Slipping in my watery logic.  I'd cry if the whole thing didn't seem absurd. I'd cry if it wasn't all my fault.

You always ask me if I hate you.  truthfully- I wish I did and I am afraid that I might.

I can't bring myself to see you as the true arch villain of our short lived tale. But nothing is blossoming and I feel dead inside

and the truth?

It happened so long ago. Years now. You were the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.  Unwittingly you are cemented in memories' cannon of rejection's greatest hits.

the one closest to the faint reality of my heart and the one furthest from ever being at reach.