In an alternate universe

I have not quite reached my twenty•third rotation around a red sun
Insanity has never kissed my parched lips in recognition or twisted my tart tongue
I am not notorious; nor unknown to the one
Meant to meet me beneath this oak tree
When my skin is touched by fate or perhaps by a moon that hangs undone

I am caught in a whirlwind of shapes and shades
Reminiscent of a broken kaleidoscope on a grey day
Haphazardly they spin around me
Twirling crookedly beneath two tired feet
Each fragmented piece fighting for its own space
Beside me in this distorted reality

I am silently aware of the cool air as it tickles my sun-burnt cheeks
The howling wind an accurate comparison to my stagnant anxieties
Normally suffocating
But in this reality I find I can still breathe
As I wait for him beneath the rustling leaves
Of this mighty oak tree

In this alternate time he responds
To my whispered request to make amends
With a broad and honest grin
That lift blue eyes no longer filled with regret
He takes a swig of whiskey; and I, a drag of my cigarette
In this place where we are not parted by the deafening complexity of death

And as the pride we swallow
Turns my cheekbones hollow
We laugh about the time we have borrowed
From all of the tomorrow's
That will never follow
As he sings me an enchanting melody of tortured sorrow
A tale that tells me that although this feels genuine
I may never see his smiling face again

In an alternate universe

Where the grass is green in January, and snow falls in July
I wait for him at our place beneath this oak tree, below a purple sky
Where honey doesn't taste so sweet, and bees never learn to fly
I wait for him in a sea of brightly colored wildflowers, and graceful butterflies

© krystlereisler