lonesome

a candle is spent lighted - in lighted spaces - filling the whites with what could's and what would's. in darkness then the eyes lose their purpose. there is nothing else but blankness - in blanked spaces - emptying the blacks with regrets and remorse of the what could's and what would's.

i saw you figuring a likeness to someone's echoes of being a nomad - of excising freedom from the world's excessive attachments. i never felt it with my empty posts.

would you have loved me if i could have informed you of some intimate delicateness in me that responds to your presence. i would not have immediately admitted that it was love. it could have been a sense of caring, a feeling of comforted convenience. maybe a spark that could have flourished into an ardour of what love might be. what could's and what would's. what might have been. 

and what seems to have happened is losing the flame. the warmth. the light. my vision towards an us had been shortsighted. i am now stuck in my empty place. blank spaces.


photo:
aberystwyth, wales
united kingdom
june 2015