My soul has grown to frayed and warn to carry me comfortably—-pieces of me seep from its cracked walls and leak onto the floor, I’d need a soul-horn to squeeze back into that old life—time moves us on—. With corpses come flowers, freshly cut and ready to die—. For some, love becomes only a word, four letters, uttered with the sincerity of a grocery clerks “have a nice day”.  What a trite and meaningless salutation, What’s my other option?—Have a bad day?   In-spite of my failing words and their treacherous rabbit holes, I do still love you—I have no other option====

I think the two of us should take the day off, walk around in faded wrinkled pajamas, sitting face to face, two miss matched coffee cups, all sheepish grins and tousled bed-heads, two unclaimed valentines, no return addresses, awkwardly belonging to one another, hearts locked on spin cycle, outcasts in a world consumed by trends and fads, our kind of love never pales or goes out of style, sitting beside one another watching the sky snow, taking it all in–holding hands in silence, best friends communicating with drowsy morning eyes-

We’ll watch “Harold and Maude” and dig Cat Stevens, we can bake hot gooey brownies and wiggle our toes as we wash-em down with ice cold milk, and then take a vanilla scented bubble bath—candles flicker, bubbles burst—-we’re the lucky ones—–knowing that nothing, or no one, can take these moments from us—all else is broken glass, flashing in the sun, glimmering and shattered, inconsequential-

My music and spoken work projects are available at cdbaby.com, Artist Victor Uriz
My novel and book of prose are available at amazon.com, Author Victor Uriz