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By coujeaux Date: 2003 Oct 07 Comment on this Work [[2003.10.07.19.02.24077]] |
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Last shriek of disbelief, strange, this relief; once were sweet nothings, now but a myth, Tongue that once carved out whispers of paradise now cuts the memory as the scythe. Walk around, speak to yourself; what part was true, which one were you; a fool, as I? For where I envisioned the convergences of our end ever now greets me as but a lie. In this face is a calm as eye of the storm; tight wall enveloped, swirling fury offshore; Let only hope for your salvation be if evacuation is as swift from what we were before. Now at this juncturepoint, know the lead road, see the destination; 'tis a familiar place, I saluted and celebrated as I never thought possible victories over a onetime disgrace. It takes but a moment to say we shall always be this way, as one, rejoined at long last, Within an instantaneous cry then to obliterate it goodbye and watch it fade into the past. Of inconsequence, I think not; how soon we both forgot how we said if not for we, none, How fitting that at the moment we reunited spectre of another presided over our undone. Quiet breaths in the shadows calm endless questions; answers are mine and mine alone, Perhaps before I ever came to be whatever remains left of me I reaped what I've sown. To look upon one hand, the broken; I've left so much still unspoken, things unrevealed, I rely on my expertise in things dear I've seen cease as reassurance lips remain sealed. But a secret is never so when it is not you but I that know every step, each plot or twist, And when I said unto these eyes nothing has proven a surprise, the first will never exist. |