We lived alone then, together, on Paradise Lane. But I don't hear the sound the warm rain makes anymore. And I can't see the soft hairs falling over your face either. They are only black and coarse now, and they grow longer as if to mark all the years since we were both young enough to care. I don't see the stars like we once did either, laying on our backs in the grass looking to heaven and wondering if dying there would feel better than living. And I can't feel your window pane on my hand anymore. A thousand soft raps wrote the melody of our beating hearts. And I don't taste your salty tears, or the bile spitting through the teeth you gnashed at me time and time again. Vaguely a kiss on stubborn, pursed lips, turned hard by resolve...then suddenly softened by love. Ahh yes, there it is now, the love I do recall. It was young and breathtaking, and I can feel its heat now as if it was just yesterday that the image of your little wing was seared into my soul forever. And it was there, in the light of a hard sun, that I wanted to die with you on paradise lane. We will always live alone there, together.
-Jim Franks
-Jim Franks
