Take my hand and tell me what I want to hear
I think to myself as I feel your heart drift further away from mine
Drown out your words with images of things I always hoped you’d say
These thoughts were never to be spoken, and yet here we sit
Saying out loud all the things that keep cutting to the core of who I want to be
For you, for always, and even for me.
We paint pretty pictures of all we hoped we could be
Before time got a hold of us, and there was nothing left to be said
Except for a bitter end to what we started so hopefully
And we’ll sit under this tree and contemplate the beginning and the end
The turning leaves will fall all about us and we will thank the sky for the seasons.
published in print in Poetry Potion 2013.01 On Being Human