Can you retell a story
like it's never been told?
For you seem easily bored.
Memory only is beautiful
for the good is what is chosen to be retold.
Time is precious
for it stitches together
you and me.
The lover and the loved-
our assigned lives,
how did it come to be?
Revive?
Like a song
you cannot get rid of
for you are enamoured
by each note, word and pause
and that itself
begets its death;
no warning
no apparent reason-
until it's that season again.
Love was never meant to grow cold
old
mould.
Haven’t we walked down
this way before?
We have reached
that point again,
my love
my friend-
save this water
from flowing away,
my cupped hands
and I re-tread that way.
I look
a reflection
looks back at me
yes
it is still me.
I do not want to become
disheartened or cold
I do not wish
this dullness to remain
unfeeling, numb
disdain.
Is this the best
we will ever be?
Loneliness is worse
when somebody is there.
Silence is louder
when you are here.
Friday, April 18, 2008
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