Thursday, August 29, 2013

Something fictional.

Promises to the living.

I'll be the eyes that take in life as it passes around you,
I'll be the mind that appreciates the one wearing faux leather in a sea of blazers,
I'll be the peculiar grey manta ray you spot in the shallow, clear waters of a foreign country,
I'll be the one you drink wine with on a lonely Friday evening,
I'll be the bright, vivid color red that flows through your heart, the steady beating of the drums inside your chest, the life coursing through your veins.

You may not see it yet, but I am the upper left fragment of your heart--the memories of the living.