Sunday 4/23/2006 12:00:00 AM

Those are all valid points, but I can't address them now. My love is too stubborn. My bridge too suspended to permit the luxuries you take for granted.

Your sad eyes say more than enough. The helpless quiver of your arm as it reaches for what is gone.

Your only dilemma. Who took it from you. And why they did.

My only regret. That I never let them know me as I'd always promised. Not that I didn't try.

I remember most the patent in his eyes as he seemed to be copyrighting what we had. Like it mattered that no one else have ownership of those moments we'd found.

It would fail us. Just as everything does. But that I always expected. It was the silence I couldn't resolve.

Whatever he thought I wanted, he gave me too much credit.

Because I could never want that much.

Years later we'd look back and tell ourselves how young we were. But getting older doesn't change who we were then.

One more tumor won't change us when there are so many left.


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.