My life is contained in a shoe-box beneath my bed,
At the bottom of a green glass vase of pennies, or maybe
In the prayer flags hung over my mirror holding the cut-out owl Karen made for me.
My soul is contained and content in a mildewed pod growing in the land of wind and chi.
My future and hopes lie waiting in my pendant box, waiting for my questions with answers I may not want to hear and
My love, where is that? In my heart or his? Love and lust are confused and linger in the scent of him on my heart.
My future is no more concrete then a speck of dust illuminated by the sun’s rays peaking through my lace curtains.
And death, what of that?
When it comes I will seal it and I in an empty bottle and set us adrift on an ocean of eternal possibilities and
Where the tide will take us is where we will stay and begin again, and again, and again…