A Cliche Is Like A

Whenever She Turned Her Steep Focus To Me, I Felt The Warmth That Flowers Must Feel When They Bloom Through The Snow, Under The First Concentrated Rays Of The Sun.

She Would Be Half A Planet Away, Floating In A Turquoise Sea, Dancing By Moonlight To Flamenco Guitar.

This Was The Life I Was Going To Be Living, Everybody Separated From Everybody Else, Hanging On For A Moment Only To Be Washed Away.

My Loneliness Tasted Like Pennies.

How Right That The Body Changed Over Time, Becoming A Gallery Of Scars, A Canvas Of Experience, A Testament To Life And One's Capacity To Endure It.