i. I should have returned to you that morning, instead of boarding that well lit early morning city bus. How zombie-like with gaunt faces, sleep still heavy in our bones, we made our way to give ourselves to the moil of soulless work.
ii. I should have returned to you that morning, feet echoing through the dank, dark Philadelphia air, where fools and early morning runners seek to stave off dying.
iii. I should have returned to you that morning, raced again through the familiar welcoming foyer, the cramped apartment anxious with future days, passing the mire of unpaid bills and sleeping shadows, to where I’d crawl back into the oasis of our bed.
Your skin succulent with the water of roses, the pure mist of innocent mountains, the life giving trees of
iv. Into your arms warm yet fresh with the joys of living to deliver myself…to be twisted into the gentle shapes of madness - all over again.”