A couple in Coney island:
A thin tendril holding me to time-
Slipping in slow seconds from my loose grasp.
I raised hand as steady as this moment
And froze time in a white flash.
The blue dripped from the ocean, the color falling from her dress.
And what remained?
The stagnant beauty of life,
The world as it should be
The people just being.

A poem:
A poem is a collection of waves all flowing out into one ocean
A poem is an unseen journey taken by many travelers.
A poem is a song of the heart lyrics spread across a page.
A poem is a friend to confide in to share your deepest worries with.

What happens to a broken life?
Do you try to repair t, pulling through the worn fabric?
Or do you pull the last stitch, letting cloh flutter away-stained with memories
Do you leave this fragmented world behind in your footsteps to be erased by the wind?
Is the release forceful as you pretend its something you wont miss?
Or do you give it distance like you give a kiss