Words unspoken, you burrow into the darkness like a mole
The fantastic dazzles your eyes, the real evades you
I am not all oils and unguents.
I cut.
You bleed.
They do not rise trippingly to the tongue
These syllables
And yet they are the blood, sinews, flesh
That tie together the fragile relations between
Lovers, colleagues, friends
Making it possible to envision something more than civil, sterile truce.
Courage, mon ami. Courage.
It is not a place you know.
Deconstruction erases meaning as though it had never been
Remorse binds those fragile filaments, tying one reality to another
When I can forgive you this cowardice
Reaching out out your hand to mine only in irenic dream
It means (just so you know) your opinion and actions
Have no more weight in my life
Than the breath that stirs the dead leaves
Sending them skittering across the road as we pass
Into oblivion
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