The Fields of Nevermore

Walking in the fields of nevermore, 
Time suspended,
With a small slight breeze that
Tossed the flowers to
And fro.

I reach forward to brush the hair,
Out of her eyes,
She smiles.
She smiles as I trace my hand
Down her

My fingers feel comfort and move
Over her soft cheek
Like the grass moves,
Caressing the wind in these fields.

The sun is at its peak
And without my father times touch,
Will always be that way,
Like the two of us, always together.

As the wind changes direction,
Like the tides of life,
I am filled with her smell,
The smell of love,
The smell of someone who cares,

I would often ask her to tell me
Of myself.
It’s than that we lay in each other’s
Arms and listen to the
Brooke bubble by.
I trace my hand behind her neck
Pulling slowly,
Until her lips meet mine
And she becomes a part
Of my existence.

When we part it’s her eyes I search for
And in those eyes the reflection of myself
That stares back.

She touches my cheek now
And wipes away the tear.
It’s her that fills the hole I always
Carry in my soul.
It’s her that makes me who I am.
It’s her that I truly love and need.

I hold her closer but she is
Soon replaced by a strangled pillow,
The fields by rolling sheets
And the sun by
The illumination of the clock alarm…

The one to fill my hole
Is gone again

To live in memory.

The pain returns, and not only do I
Not know who I am.

I can’t find her.

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