The Scarlet XLII

In my fractured and temporal memory plagued by mistakes and fading loves; this icy mountain range cradles my every self-righteous, soft spoken, self-loathing in the halls of their castles that call it home. My reality fractures, fading between myth and reality. Eternity and gravity. I lose my grip each time the ground shakes and the fault line appears. In my darkest nights on the mountain I remember you in the dusty books of these places. In this land of fading loves, you are not one of them, and my greatest fear is that one day I will see you here before me on the mountain. Held gently in the wind of summer Spanish moss and red wine, flickering in and out of existence. For now, at least, I’ll rest in the gratitude that you are far from the icy mountains of forgotten loves.