Friday, March 22, 2013

Foolish women repeat themselves while queens learn from past ignorance.
I've been shown who I am.

I waited for your heart to speak my language
  and found myself tongue-tied and lost.
Realized my words were gibberish and foreign to your realm of what matters.
I translated your barricades into welcome mats and warnings into love letters...
But we were saying the same thing.

I am the closed diary and a young boy
  with all the memories of a time that has repeated itself.
Foolishly, I still miss the you that's etched in the comfort of untruths
  and am ashamed of finding peace in a lie.
My adoration is tempura thick while your resolve is diluted and mistaken.
I never required much.
Believing in one-night eternities and true love in stolen moments.
Those moments filled in spaces and you exposed them again.
I sat on the bench and watched you call the shots.
Trusting in a love challenged tall tales and made itself known
  and you ran as if from your last breath.

I'm picking up the pieces of your absence with gritted teeth and bruised pride.
My favorite song now tortures my sensibility and distorts my disposition,
  making it an extension of you.
Confused by the cohabitation of disappointment and the need to taste your lips again.
I see that I love someone who reserves me in his back pocket
  and watched me set up shop in the recesses of his mind.
I think I hear you laughing at me now.
An intense love story, we spanned across time.
Now we've become a fable.

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