Lemon Balm

My sweet, sweet Keda,

In my aching chest, my heart wreaks devastating havoc on my body. The pressure divides me into bits of intoxicating, melancholy pieces, and I’m left behind in a star-struck state of stupor and lovelorn tumor-like agony.

A tumor, you ask? How malignant is this tumor?! You might even be thinking of my dramatic flair for setting such a stage and roll your eyes at my annoying ways. I will tell you this here and now, Kedamono, my dearest friend and love, that all of this is stated in earnest and truth. Every single word of it.

It is benign. The tumor, I mean. Sorry, I lost track of my thoughts. I tend to do this a lot. Especially when I think of you. You make me dream even when I am awake, if that makes sense. You turn me into a dream machine. And I linger into these beautiful ideas for longer than I’ll admit….

I have read somewhere that a fossil is not the representation of the animal that died nor is it the bones of the animal, either. Merely, it is stone’s memory of the bones of the animal.

How can this be? What about that animal’s whole life?! Their family, their struggles, their feelings? What is the memory that I’ll leave behind? What is your memory of me? What is other people’s memory’s of me like and how will I survive past my mortalities expiration date?

A mere whisper? A mere joke? A mere trifle?

A memory of a memory, gone, lost to the winds of time and space.

You once took me by my hands and whispered so passionately about our future, of our future.

I was enthralled and loved your voice, your ideas, your plans. Of your, “Somewhere Over The Rainbow,” sort of ideals.

And your beautiful smile, your beautiful face—-the way I’d wish I could kiss you and make you mine…. The way you made me feel like I was yours even if we never even kissed, it was your sweet talent and loving affection that drew me in from my trauma filled life before you came into it.

And your letter you sent me that peppered me up with sweet thoughts and romance, of lemon balms and sweet dreams of pancake breakfasts together and honey blossom love….

You made me so happy and start to actually dream of a better life.

Where are you now, my dear sweet friend?

I miss you so very much.

Did I push you away? I believe I must have. I know it is true, how else could you have left me?

Did I say something wrong? Probably, I usually say the wrong things quite often.

Did I fall in love with you too early, or too late? Was I just the wrong person to fall in love with you? I am just Popee, a fool, a clown, a wannabe artist and scientist, a weirdo, a sad man without a plan—-and the one who loves you.

No matter what, we’ll always have lemon balm.

Love,

Popee.