Petals In The Breeze

What was it I seeked, in her?

The need for affection always brought something up inside me that tresspassed sacred territory.

The answers danced like flower petals in the breeze and when I grasped for them - they always slipped through my fingers.

I could never hold them, or feel their smooth, soft surfaces in my hand.

I believed "love" was an answer once; but when "love" turned to a reflection in the mirror I wiped furiously to erase it between beating moments of anger, sadness, depression, regret, fear - to vanish the image there.

As she stood by my side, I could imagine her not being there. My cold, soul-dead eyes staring at nothing but myself.

I could no longer feel her warmth by my side.

"Love" at the end of the day was masturbation in my bedroom while she fucked on the couch.

Love, was waking up alone and wishing the fans breeze was her sinful breath upon my skin, if only for a moment.

Love was always meant to become an answer to jealousy, with nights spent holding a pillow...while she slept with my friends.

Outside, the breeze blew again as the darkened clouds of coming storms stood ominously on the horizon; blacking out the light.

Pitter patter of regret came down as rain, and the withered petal of what I thought was "love" landed in my palm.

Thousands of memories shook me like lightning strikes; infusing me with flashbacks of laughing, touching her lips with my fingers, trailing the destined darkness of the tunnel beneath the bridge with her hand in mine as we fought the shadows with tales of future love, and the warmth of our bodies.

I pushed the withered petal between my finger tips, begging to feel the smooth surface and find an answer.....any answer.....

...but the petal crumbled....

.....lightning struck the sky with blinding power....

...and the rain poured...