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By Ali Date: 2006 Apr 27 Comment on this Work [[2006.04.27.09.05.11887]] |
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There is no 'average'-- Not in love. There's no in- between, or untouchable Compromise. Sometimes, it's just dissonance, not resonance, and you can't remember where you parked Your car, let alone your heart. Writing will only keep you 'sane' For so long, and even then, It all depends on how you define things; It's almost ironic--how this comes full circle To semantics. More he said, she said-- she lied, lies, lying through dreams that no faithful heart could believe. I've learned the hard way That love is not a cure, symptom, Or escape route. Three years is a lifetime-- But the myth of Limbo is worse, Where the statement of forgiveness Is mistaken for the act. Forgetting yourself Is not the same thing As falling in love. No matter How many miles you drive, Or how you twist your heart to fit The spaces of fantasy and reality-- There's no mercy in martyrdom, No glory in pretending Prometheus, Pantomiming the wrecking of your own heart, A public act for your own entertainment, When, my dear, In reality, You can't even remember, or (re)member, The distilled contents of your love. but I'm sure you'll scream about it anyway, all the while trying to dance about architecture-- but that's just another prelapsarian blueprint you don't own. |