Today I did something that do not like to do.
I thought of you.
By doing it let me know that you are gone.
There is no one to tell my stories to.
No one there to wipe my tears as they fall from the river behind my eyes.
My talks will now go unanswered
There will be no new memories to be made.
All the ones that I have will soon fade.
No new stories to tell.
This is a chapter in the book that I must keep writing.
The words just do not flow as they used to.
Now I just talk to the wind in hopes that you are listening.
A have been thinking the last couple of days, and I have an idea about my first writing project for this year. This year I want to commit to writing a television show. I have the idea, and think I know what I want it to be about. I just might need help with it. I want to write and develop a show that is for people like me. This will be a show about people that are living a life that is fun, but complicated.
This is going to be a journey, and I am finally ready for it. Life comes at you fast, and it can all be over with a blink of an eye. I would really apricate all the help that can get. You never know what can happen.
Winding is blowing the trees down south.
Telling the story that we have all talked about.
Hiding the fact of the pain it holds.
Listening to the sorrow that only a few knows.
Wondering when its turn will be.
Not knowing that place or the destiny.
Just knowing the feeling of something that cannot be told.
Working with other to give strength that it will never receive.
Walking the path that is never common.
Always there to lend rest when in need.
The secrets that are going to the place that no one knows.
The place where only lovers go.
The place where sorrow is home.
The trees down south have a story to be told.
Walking the roads that holding my heart.
Now my head is hanging low as the trees tear it apart.
Looking at the houses that once stood tall.
Now falling to ground without a soul breath.
Looking ahead trying hard not look back.
I end up stuck in the middle while the light is no longer red.
Trying to figure which way to go.
I look back and see my path is not yet grown.
Wondering why this cannot be when this place is no longer me.
Then I realize this place is me.
This is my first destination, and it looks to be my last.