Just about too many months
and quite some distance between us
is that I realize I still yearn (and crave)
your induced and delusional love.
Needless to say a fabrication this all is
just like pretending one day I'll see you at my door
introduce you to my friends, take you places and sit under countless sunsets,
sleep together and wake up every morning to infinite different smiles.
Is it that until surrendering to someone else
and shifting my vulnerability to other big brown eyes and nasty hair I (at last) will be over a estranged you?
Or is it that my fear is to one day simply have forgotten about
what we were all about in the first place?
To let go, to not remember your body,
to start not waiting for you, expecting absolutely nothing.
To square out such failed fiction,
to pretend neither of us ever thought of all this otherwise.
Written by a sad Luk on St Valentine's eve (Feb. 13, 2008).
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