Romance – A Poem

She came to my senses all at once

As she could never come to her senses

A whole life swallowed, not digested

Without the drip-tick of daily acquaintance

The moments forgiven or understood

She was dead. Completed.

 

Silenced, vulnerable,

A mute defendant of each decision.

Pathological I

Made the first incision

Cut into her relations

Who ruptured information

 

They remember to make her

In their own image

So she moves further from me

When drawn near

I have all her existence

In polished fragments

 

Innumerable facets

That shift in the light

I have all of her

Like a fog bank

I grasp, miss and change

To hold nothing again

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