We circle around each
other over forgotten lore,
and talk about the world
amongst us in a confusing
swirl.

Voices tell me that clinging
like an unwanted parasite
is not that defining.
Yet I tell them that
she will always be me,
myself, and future self.

A voice echoes and pings
telling me that her love
was but a part of another page,
but her eyes are all that
keep me loved.

I drag a wooden sword as
I beat the same old tune
about forgotten love,
and loves that binds me
a new.

02/03/2006

Posted on 02/03/2006
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