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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #984279
what was this thing between us...was it love?
A hush, the silence beckons Luna’s sky, to sing,
A sonnet not yet called a lullaby, I think,
Of phonics to allure you,
Of magic to contort you
Of simple lines of logical reprieves,
Of desperate cries of painless release,
Of this thing between us.

The north, from which this wind does plough, its’ course,
From mountain high to desert brow, divorce,
This space that has enslaved us,
A place that has delayed us,
A complex thrill, melodic will devours,
An obvious sell, the pleasure fell, empowers
This wretched thing between us.

Don’t you think, without a blink, I would ever leave you?
If you find, the peace of mind, to say that, would it come true?
I might never know this heart you stole, was it mine to begin with
Or was it yours forever more enveloped oh so quick
Oh what heart of gold you will not fold, for any or in between
The sheets you’ve riled with denial, how come it wasn’t me.
It’s with regret, I must confess, I didn’t want you back
For without your lies, your confusing crime, it wasn’t worth the lack,
Of effort or of other chores, that could not provide the lust,
It’s my dismay that today
Dies
The thing between us…

All alone, I sit in cold; I waste away to fog,
I pray sometimes, less and less I find, admitting to my God,
Was it wrong or right, to take this flight, to leave you without grace,
Just put on a smile, I tell myself, to see my shipwrecked face.
The time has come to stop the hurt, to end the here and now,
I’ve missed the bus; I’ve lost the toss of loves risky trust,
And forgot the thing between us…

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