How fleeting are these passions
How fickle the fancy
Is there anything innate:
To this meaning of your own make

Say, love, if I say it all again
With the gravitas, the conviction, all the same
Would it matter even say for argument’s sake
If I was never the one you wanted to stay

And how can I ask you to kiss the cancer that grows
In place of the love of the one before
Crippled little heart, never whole
My name withheld, in too many stories untold

So wanders this nameless through the ages
With burdens to carry, with faces to bury
A protagonist of a demented little show
A footnote in stories, overlooked, unabsolved


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s