by Richard Vince
Some days I find myself talking to you
Silently as if you’re here with me;
As if I carry you around in my head;
As if you came here after all.
Maybe I still do this because it
Took me so long to acknowledge
What really happened back then.
It’s like all the other roads down which
I sent my adolescent heart were
Safe havens: distractions to protect it
From the reality that you would
Never really be mine.
You could never have been
The girl next door when you were
A third of the world away.
And therein lies the crux of my problem.
I never allowed myself to grow
Out of fairytales when they became
Almost plausible as adult lives.
My greatest sin is that I tried to fit
Real people into imaginary boxes.
Sadly, you were one of them, and so
We are left with the bitter aftertaste
Of unfulfilled promise, even though
It is one the universe could never keep.
Yet another friendship I could never
Properly enjoy; another beautiful
Melody in a minor key.
Posted on 09/10/2014
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/12/14 at 12:30 AM|
The realization that this pining was ill conceived gives this poem a lighter under current and hope for a real future with real friends.
|Posted by Amy Niggel on 10/01/14 at 07:39 PM|
It has been far too long since I've read your words. Beautiful as always.