Traveling at
light speed
without direction
the product of a creation
that bedazzles and befuddles
that gives birds
branches to sing on
and gave me the ability to pretend
it's OK living without you
that lets me tell you
I love you more now
than forever
now more than
ever before
I beg
to be drawn back
into your mysterious
sketchbook
to ride on the center
between gravity.
Love,
an incomplete disaster
.
