Grappling with false memories
I cherished her, she treasured me
– We thought our love was meant to be –
Few days well spent, the rest in mope
She held no clue she wore my hope
In every tame, unbroken stare
Past every vain and vexing fear,
A cure for all but absent dreams
The fix for tangled life which teemed
With fatal self-destruction.
She was the cure.
The irony was perfect.
At the fringe of her expression
Emerging blank but thinly veiled
Lurked years of stifled torment
I knew her feeling well.
In me she claimed a saviour
Yet she was always mine,
Together we’d take flight
– But spluttered –
Embedded in delusion
Distracted from dark times.
The union was perfect.
When now and then we parted ways
Acquiescing Fate as if to say:
“Our lives are yours to give and take
But please erase this placid haze”
The chains between us soon gave way
Releasing forth the prize remains:
A fond memory to fall for;
A blithe reverie to chase.
The fantasy was perfect.
Caught within Fate’s temporal walls
I’ve lost her soul, she’s lost my call.
On days of pain unbearable
I question if she cares at all
Or if she hears each tear which falls
On vacant space that should be hers
Two victims of an aimless curse.
The tragedy was perfect.
The urge to form a lighter tune
To span the rift from me to you
Arises strong but cowers deep
Plagued by seeds we now can’t reap:
Years of rich, unfettered youth,
The reality feels too uncouth.
Yet some solace survives…
Her memory endures.