adieu pretty prose

Hey, it's been a while.

Six years, actually, since you've made me smile.

Since your pretty words and pretty rhymes

Kept me afloat through all those times.

I miss you.

I think I lost you.

I think I lost that part of me

That spoke in lines of poetry,

That dreamt in vivid imagery,

And adored the world so ardently.

I was fourteen,

Naive and barely in my teens.

You lent me a way to lay my thoughts

In winding lines of twisting rhymes,

Like flowering vines for a flowering mind.

There was magic in my world

So there was magic in my pen,

In my keyboard,

In this page.

My words could nurture gardens.

My words could found empires.

But it's been six years.

When did the pastels and florals of my imagination fade

To the beige and humdrum of office desks?

When did flowing lines of rhythm fall apart

To Furthermores and Therefores, every syllable clipped and clinical?

When did the flashing fish beneath falls give way

To the stream of stale water from a corporate fountain?

When did—

Well, that's the funny thing about time.

It slips through your fingers, doesn't it?

And when it passes,

It passes.

I don't feel you nudging my wrist anymore,

Lithe fingers guiding me to spin songs out of my musings.

I don't know when my crimsons turned to muted mauves,

When you dissipated from the corners of my mind like wisps of breath in frosty air.

I don't recall when you departed and didn't return.

And I am left

Wishing you back.