It’s been so long since I’ve talked to her
The “old” her
Before my mind over-emphasized her grandeur
Before my self-destructive tendencies
Broke my heart in two cities
Half fled, with her, half stayed behind
Reluctant to commit at any point in time
Itself to the trials of deferring love or lust
for a tender heart, swept north in a gust
a primordial wind whose current lay ancient
with whispers of the Renaissance and darkest of ages,
with conflicting wisdom, not to be believed,
by anyone, but the naive: Me.
Then life became a bore without her,
without her in my hopeless arms.
I pressured and I endured
With fables of love, and the way “I LOVED HER!”
All simply a veil, over childhood insecurities
As if she were the light, and I, frightened by night
Feared the dusk when she leaves.
The Way it Goes 