Every year
Suited up for the occasion,
I fly into space
Nearly grazing the belly of the moon
For you.
Or is it for me?
A marred pilgrimage,
An annual visit
To ghosts of my soul;
The literal monster in a crystal tomb.
I travel from far
Til we're nearly nose to nose
Both arrested in glass prisons we can't break.
Trapped by the past
For better or worse.
I made that vow to another once,
Not so long ago
But too far gone all the same.
Maybe some day
I'll travel across the sea,
Made not of stars,
Only water.
No suit, no bottled air supply,
No tie or fancy cuffs.
Not really one for pomp and circumstance
Though she appreciated the effort.
Maybe one day
I'll have a new destination.
Someone to visit,
Still separated
But close, heart in heart,
Every year.