As I box away our memory,
You and I.
Like sand leaking an hour glass, our hour has past, as like your words,
We can never get back.
Like a bubble popped,
Dreams quickly become blighted realities.
I was real to the possibility
Of waking up;
And allowing you to shake me, up.
It was no more real, than I imagine cheap words would render;
Things said without half the integrity they deserve,
And other things almost blatantly taken...
Had I not been so willing to give them up.
I pulled your hair,
Like it was me, gasping for the breath our touch would take from one another.
I let you pass.
Because you said you might, and so what more have I, but to bow-
A loving respect as I suck up the blow.
Tears blocked. Locked up.
Too, I allow you to pass once more.
It is a loss I can take. Calculated. And still lost nonetheless. Rather today than tomorrow.
And there will always be,
Your slight memory.
As much as I'd love to bury it or set it aflame,
It is a seed now, I journey from.
A goodbye.
A knowing, that I must walk away.
And so I shall. As so shall she.
No comments:
Post a Comment