…Not Your First Love

I am not your first love.

When you were young and innocence so pure

what did you love to do?

Was it to roll around on the grass?

Make lemonade for cash?

What did you love to do?

Was it to play with dolls?

Or simply gaze at the stars

Tell me what you loved to do?

Is your love still there?

Or has it been sifted in the air?

Did it run swiftly to the wilderness?

The tossing and turning now woven into a bird’s nest.

So far away the mere thought is quite the maze.

Lost for years yet assumed crippling for days.

As we sit together one with each other

Are you glad to have found me?

Does your heart flutter?

Tell me what you loved to do?

I see separation in your eyes.

Not like the ocean when it resides,

But the cocoon when the wings being to fly.

It is that void holding back walls of water,

Remembering: Your love has drifted farther.

Parallel to the hand and glove

This...not Your first Love

Hello everyone. You caught a glimpse of another piece in the making. I feel the message is important to communicate in this season. The world has been through and still faces very volatile times, and it is in these moments when you began to realize what truly matters, reflect.

I will not breakdown the denotation of the piece because it is not complete, yet. Although I will not expound on the intricate meaning right now, I wanted to share a piece from the next volume. I choose to post it, so you can just remember who you are regardless of your current situation. Always remember to fly high!