Love (III)

March 18, 2009


The quick-eyed stare plunge my heart to the grave,
as solemn reflection of your eyes reveal my scars.
Is all but lost? We retread our steps to the place
where directions were not followed and finally lost.
Better to be lost with you, in this corner of the woods
than in the center of the globe, with all that is good.


Oh wretched words, what despisable means!
Surely my ears misheard or my mind miscomprehend.
Is this your intent? We hold on to our dreams,
for time but opiates the heart, and blunts the edges
Until when the smoke is cleared and pains recalled.
Yet surely your words and you are not the same at all.


How sweet the silence seemed, as you yearned,
gazing out the window, with intermittent looks.
Is all but gone? The same silence do returns
echoed through the old passages of the woods.
No trace of sweetness to be found, just the faint
lines that paths the distance of disdain.


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