Finally.. A new poem.
It has been awhile but isn't that always the case?
All of the above
The moon turned to face the rising sun, the dawn gave birth to three minutes of regurgitation. In a moment she wondered if it was really worth the breath of air across the face of a whisper and we're all getting old enough to die.
Feelings construed give meaning. Wishing for abstinence in order to see through this haze of depravity, this superficial naivety. A face as soft as snow but eyes turn away. Feelings lost within an absent gaze.
This is history repeating and my CD skipping is sanctuary. Doubt, guilt, stimuli - a life of love too much or not at all? Not knowing how, not knowing why just knowing that first kiss in beginning and in demise.
I rise from slumber to feel ever so numb. Her residue stuck to the walls of mind. This cannot be nor cannot be undone as there is no escape for the blind. Fragments of memory, reality and hope crafted to meet the eye. This will sustain I tell myself for what is truth if not but a lie?
So we wait at bus ports, shopping malls, the cinema, protests, cafes and the rest. She waits for change I wait for need, my cards are played at best. I know sorry wouldn’t quite cut it but it wasn’t through lack of love, it was simply that I forgot to tick ‘all of the above’.
All of the above
The moon turned to face the rising sun, the dawn gave birth to three minutes of regurgitation. In a moment she wondered if it was really worth the breath of air across the face of a whisper and we're all getting old enough to die.
Feelings construed give meaning. Wishing for abstinence in order to see through this haze of depravity, this superficial naivety. A face as soft as snow but eyes turn away. Feelings lost within an absent gaze.
This is history repeating and my CD skipping is sanctuary. Doubt, guilt, stimuli - a life of love too much or not at all? Not knowing how, not knowing why just knowing that first kiss in beginning and in demise.
I rise from slumber to feel ever so numb. Her residue stuck to the walls of mind. This cannot be nor cannot be undone as there is no escape for the blind. Fragments of memory, reality and hope crafted to meet the eye. This will sustain I tell myself for what is truth if not but a lie?
So we wait at bus ports, shopping malls, the cinema, protests, cafes and the rest. She waits for change I wait for need, my cards are played at best. I know sorry wouldn’t quite cut it but it wasn’t through lack of love, it was simply that I forgot to tick ‘all of the above’.
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