To the lost love

In the morning, it was a Saturday. 

We didn't need any parents telling us we couldn't live our lives, any way we pleased. 

This was OUR life, OUR challenge.

But, these precious things seemed to obliterate.

They were lost, but we couldn't forget them.

We woke up to the sounds of police cars.

But the sirens were only in the distance.

We tried closing our eyes again, but the fear struck us lame. 

We were too afraid of the cars coming to us, that sleep was a hope.

We pass through this earth once, and we wanted to make sure it was worth it.

So we ate our sandwiches on the run.

But still took time to smell the daisies.

I tried to create the image of how wonderful you truly were, but you only listened to the magazines.

That was too much.

You were generosity, and love envieth not. Or so the scriptures say.

You're first business in life was to collect men.

I think that was the origin, the origin of a disease I call longing.

Because I could tell you were longing for the one.

But the ideal man, does not always pray.