I learned to see you as a distant, detached subject, clinging to the dogma taught
I endured the pain of your frost and indifferent friendship with commitment
I grew to love you for what you are and as presented even against the truth blatant
The rose of our dalliance sprouted in full elegance and bloomed in oppressive sighs
Then, on an eternal trail, it froze like a needle in your loathing presence
For company, I dined under the shadows, in solitude
For the warmth of your glance, I starved at the banquet of the damned
For friends, the stars attended me. Cold. Distant. Fleeting. Shrouded in the horizon
Even now, as I glide through your radar, I am but in stealth mode, in the intensity of your animus
Yet, the twin chambers beat for you and the pulse of the drums, well, who can tell?
Through the many heaves of a broken heart, the dances, once stolen, no longer thrill
So much longing. So much apathy
So much love rewarded with such fluttering and confounding disdain
The promises, spoken with disposable askance rectitude
All that was taken, masking the bile of exploits and ambivalence. Mendacity galore in the face of consuming affection
When all your consorts are no more and the embers of the spoils of deceit are forlorn
Wherewithal the bounty of gain pilfered in the race for the selfish?
The ever-decaying embers of the putrid drooling
Twined with the puritanical prurience of elegant repugnance
Yet, now, you reach out and beckon, as if jilted
If only the favors so once freely given were so easily replenished
I keep faith with the memories of those sweet lies as I stare skywards with the hopes of a hapless lover
Though my wayward heart looked askance once or twice for the stranger’s face
Yet, the affairs of the heart never caught me in the snares
Will you remember me, but not for the benevolence?
Will you think again of the one that pines away if not for the altruism?
Will you recall, again, the promises made with an abandonment of thoughts?
Or peek your head through the corners to seek out the cradle, once more?
Shall we, once again, speak with a language blank
Or mutter empty nothings with the knowledge of a vacuum?
In vain have I loved, all these years. For naught, the passage of time
The dampness of the face betrays the violent streaming bile that courses through the plumbs of the twin chambered drum.
From a distance, I now pine.
From that distance, you now attempt to grasp at the fragments of that joy. Yet, the chasm ever deep and the abyss, a bridge too far. A country once embraced in cold abandonment, now longed for but, with halting spirit and painful memories.
Will you remember me in spite of me?
Will you remember me in spite of you?
