from the realm of letters

Dear You (well both of you, actually),
I don't know what to tell you, really...there is no right answer, there is no black and white or set in stone. I can't tell you if it'll work, I am helpless to time, I can only listen to the here-and-now and hope that's enough. Muddled dreams and aspirations and lost perception...maybe not lost, but replaced by an unfamiliar void in self, an abyss that falls to the depths of humanity. And that's if you give me the words...otherwise I'm helpless even to listen.
Please, stop beating yourself up. You mean more to me than you'll ever know, far too much for that. No one's perfect, if you were you'd be an abstraction. So if you could kindly cut yourself some slack, you'd be giving someone some peace of mind.
Always,
Chris.

how ironic

you remember how you told me something awhile ago?
it was an insight, a
prediction of sorts.
I didn't think much of it then
in fact if I remember right
I laughed.
wishful thinking
but nevertheless
impossible.

and now
after all this time
who would've known you were right all along?

all to pieces.

and so it takes to the air
an orb of radiance
her glowing thought
manifested
so perfect brilliant unscathed
flaming the color of her copperblonde hair
her idea.

it shimmers around the edges
hanging there
a mirror she offers
gleaming talisman,
the answer you didn't know you
were looking for in the
reflection flashing silver.

I wish I could do that.

but alas
the beauty of silence is broken
shattering her image
as I watch glory fade
collapsing from sheer weight of
those prying words,
brilliant silvers and bronzes dulling
to a charred black.
its misshapen form crumbles
sagging to a pile of ashes
she gathers the withered remains
at her feet
for apparently we must not
stray to abstract lands
while we are here.