mercredi, février 22, 2012
The joy of never having known you
Free and hopeful I was, once
Recounting I, who cannot seem to speak
Without questioning all.
You haunt me -- your evasive, unapologetic ghost a wraith
Leaves me faithless
Betrayed, betraying that which I once believed.
Too much, now, to exercise compassion
Seeing it reaped, torn open, and tossed to the wayside
It is not a place in which I want to spent more time.
And so you, my fantastic creature, my Caliban,
Dream lover for those who subsist only on fantasy
This corrosive gift
Only that desperate
That we had never crossed paths
And I had been still the gentle soul
I was before we met
Instead of this