Old Friends

I have trouble feeling loss –
Must it be so?
Fated we are to come, then go,
and not take it “personal”
because the earth keeps spinning on
and the moon keeps chasing it.

And yet we’re told to seek eternals,
when all eternity could bring
is heightened pain of losses
to all life’s worthy things…



So casually you spoke the most innocuous of things,
a string, assorted colors mostly dull
that barely grabs attention from any
but far-flung merchants stocking their bazaars —

And yet that little string has tied itself a knot
around my heart, a little bow that perks its steps
leaping to and fro from day to sleep,
and counting down those every 7 days
when teasing fate wills us to meet.

So casually you spoke the most innocuous of words,
so hopelessly entranced I am with dreams of “us” —

There I go again. Even in sleep, there’s no reprieve. But why run away from any cause that would excite a heart?


I can’t say how, or where in time —
how you smiled extra bright
that night perhaps,
or when you gently toss
those sable waves aside,
an inviting paradise exposed
as our eyes play pretend-shy.

All I know is this:
In these restive hours,
cocooned alone between the days
and musing thoughts,
I dream of nothing else except
imploring fate for any chance
to blossom our forbidden love.

It’s so hard to say where truth ends and fiction begins. Do I love more for its forbidden nature, or despite it?