Grave Disconnect

I inhale vapors spiced by Aurora’s deep tang and her sweet, rose kiss, on such nameless mornings all my ghosts combine, folding into neatly pressed layers of gossamer sheets offering the refuge of a cocoon before a world that stares. I stare back… Deep within the ruins of my crumbling synapses sleeps a once magnificent theatre, a retired smile generator. but now on this nameless morning it awakens and starts rolling a classical favorite, my sacred memories distorted on the big screen: it was a mosaic yet an orchestra, honey soaked melodies, the sweetest notes sparkled like gems embedded in the stained glass wings of butterflies drifting up and down in the wind like staircase symbols on classical sheet music And I chased after the music, pursued the butterflies to the end of the field only to grasp the remnants of a dissolving symphony. I inhale the vapors of a nameless morning, wrapped in the robes of all my ghosts combined, reflecting on how long until those ghosts leave me to cross the grave disconnect between me and tinkling butterflies to stand unblinkingly alongside a world that stares. I stare back.