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I am bored with love

and it's passionless limbs

that drape over my bed

in a lethargic state of impotence

while wearing the same red heart

my soul picked up hitchhiking

off highway serendipity



Now here we are

alone in togetherness

trying to build dreams

with two by fours and glue,

but even a home

won't tie us together

when our hearts live alone



Poetic vows cliched

into nothingness

like all words do, eventually

and we allowed

our bodies to become

another pair of hollow shadows

that make love to a wall

instead of each other

and we wonder why

the roses are dying

Loves memory has traced our outline in this place.

But will the spider remember, or the sun?

Did the water capture our faces in permanence?

Does the wind create us anew as it blows?

Did the shadows from the trees record our passage beneath them?

Our secret been revealed.

Yet I have told no other.

I write these words in silence, in mute testimony

To what once was.

But our image remains alive in this place.

It can not be removed.

You, me,

We then,

Were here.

We saw the day and hoped for tomorrow.

We caught a brief glimpse of love's promise.

We were not liars,

But thieves of time.

For now time has now forgotten us,

Yet our memory lingers, and love remembers

This place that was ours.

COMMENTS

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VANILLA
23:25 Mar 17 2009

NICE

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