Saturday, March 15, 2014
between the walls that I put up
and the trenches you dug
castles lost in the sand storm
built on hazy foundations
we tried to ignore the fraying threads.
it doesn't rain on our parade.
it drizzles, life goes on.
and pours. a torrent of thunderstorms
I wear microscopes
and on good days, binoculars
yours, sunglasses, tinted perhaps rose?
convex lenses, on blinkers
everything's alright.
almost fine.
somewhere in between
the two ends of this island
I've run out of gas
and you, out of patience.
delete.
and nothing
ever happened.
not like anything did anyway
—
wise words from someone, that hit home:
If I say that I love my wife
but she doesn't feel loved.
then have I loved her?