AIM poetry

OK so over AIM Michelle and I wrote this little piece of heaven..

Me: I would be willing to endure 1 million heartaches if in exchange i got 1 million glances that made me feel like I was the world to one person for a moment

Michelle: and in this moment they'd realize that their existence resides in my eyes past nuclear vessels souls use to erradicate the feelings we once shared in our prior matrimonial state

Me: this state of mind where my eyes once glued to your pupils opened portals to souls where interlocking fingers white knuckled with hopes of never letting go but your grip loosened

Michelle: and i slipped through all levels of hell into the fires of resistance so my love for you would cease with every skip of my heart i lose ounces of u in my system

Me: it wouldn't have been so hard if you hadn't promised your springs were pure I wouldn't have let you consume me so but now this poison drips from once kissed lips this is the art of letting go

Michelle: this is the start of letting go knowing that everything returns back to the beginning you still could have been one of those millions but eyes are deeper than souls and even contacts cannot block the intesity of your gaze you must

Me: start seeing that this cycle of disbelieving is holding you in a cell I couldn't tell you in words how I could fix you but I let my hearts beat murmur you a message of healing and the beginning is letting you know

Michelle: letting you know that i'm here standing with my back pressed to the strings of purity we've been harmonizing in dreams and swirling past gardens of uncertainity picking only the freshest mix of forever and now and package them in parcels of yesterday so we can remember the times we shared under the breath of mother nature

Me: shes been whispering sweet liliac lullabies taking baby breaths to not wake the longing in her head she's been wiping tears of tomorrow hoping that somehow we'll all see tomorrow this sorrow she's been hiding trying to not show us she's dying and all we are left with are flowers hand picked to present to this present day love perhaps gone by the morning