In another life, I think,
I must have
Stood upon the highest ledge
I could find and in the
Final moment, dizzy, breathless,
Thinking of you,
Learned how to fly.

In another,
My blood trailed from your knife
And I was glad it was yours.

I have died in your arms.

Died wishing to have
Your arms around me.

Died not knowing you
But knowing something.

 

©A. D. Joyce, 2014