Loose Touch

You touched me and I lost you. We loved, cared, or so we thought we did, but we never dared,

                                       

                                                 

so we never thought to be dead. We tried to dare, not come bare, not totally, and the signs we only imagined began to surface. They came to bare, taking predominance, dominating what we felt or thought we held dear and sacred, and was seemingly to us, untouchable. Always alive.

We yearned for it together, in our heads. We saw it coming, we saw it happen, but we never thought it to hurt or rather, we refused to think it will hurt. When we dared, we questioned. We questioned our fears, the possibilities, the beauties and the worst. Our hearts told us we must not see it through to the end, but we just wanted to have a taste of the “prior”, a “pre”, a “fore”, and scale the actuality of plausibility. It is good, yet our hearts dread what happens in full time.

Now apart, seems we are, to a fall in our minds, and though we hope for the best, reality seems foggy, so we are unsure of what reality truly is or might end up to be.