Fairweather Friend
There are those who forgive and forget,
go on with their lives happily, unbothered and untouched by past failures.
Me, I'm a dweller.
Dwellers obsess. They refuse to move on, obstinately remaining where they are.
Despite all their better judgment. Comme ca.
I feel tempted to say I am playing with fire
But fire is actively burning, red, hot and with a big warning side, albeit metaphorical.
I seek out the ardouring ashes and blow new life into them.
I don't play with fire, I make fire.
I am the fire. Or is it you?
No amount of water could put it out. It insists on its being.
We were here once, is that true?
We shared our insides and then we shared a mistake.
Immediately erasing all those rights with one wrong.
Two wrongs don't make a right, they make an end.
But,
Maybe the end is the beginning.
We are here, is it not true?
Always here in this space I created for us, this bubble that I imagined.
Reality has nothing to do with it. Why should it?
I see your silhouette and I reach out to touch it.
There's no scent, only skin.
No illusion, only what was always there.
Imperfect humanity.
Kommentarer
Trackback
