Someday.

     Someday, when we shy away from the hold of light and begin our ascension into darkness, we can settle for the splintered boxes underneath the earth. For the night has grown restless as well as this urge to break free from the bottom of the solid glass, barely visible behind the sweetest reflection. A dream within a dream at a distance between the lines of scattered leaves rummaging over our caskets, this love has spent every moment waiting for a chance to be remembered.
     Dark shades of trembling echoes fading away, while the restless seep into the remains of the thoughts buried deeper than the call of emptiness. Worries of the curse that beckons the most tainted sight of the moon, forgiving the passing glances striking resemblance to what was taken away just a little too soon. Our lives, hang in the balance of paper thin sheets trying to weigh the magnitude of our love on a scale which was never accurate enough to follow.
     Yet we persist to become a part of the colony of drones, falling in line with the promise of another time. Sailing adrift while cautiously optimistic waves grant us the privilege of a very unique moment. When we realized, following the right path isn't always what it seems to be. Inspired by the justified reactions to traumatic endeavors, we have found ourselves lost within the perfect solution. If only someday the darkness would overwhelm the promise our hearts have kept, never would love appear the same.
     I hear her, calling out my name. In this twisted little world we have created within the confines of our minds, the lack of imagination seemed necessary. Our purpose was to prove we could suppress the thoughts buried beneath the surface, only to discover the path enabling us to believe in anything at all was masked behind the life we should have followed. Hostages of our own conscious. I hear her at times from afar, calling out. Yet with every effort an emotion goes unnoticed, a smile not seen and three simple words unspoken. I love you.
     I hear her voice rustling with the winds, brushing the starlight across the corners of faded patches of earth. An elegant sway of beauty has overtaken the many attempts to darken or taint the sweetest of memories. I hear her only at a distance unseen, such irrelevance in the bitter darkness. Let our love blossom beyond the imperfections of mornings, waste away with life we have little time for modern hearts. Let us be vintage In essence in order to escape this nightmare, I plead my love would try.
     Someday.