Menu

It has…

They say the Gypsies know my future
Maybe so—scars and demons own my past
I will yearn for you always
My lover, my double, my friend
During the war, a fierce forest leader—
After the war, he drives a cab
They lead them away, blindfolded, my brothers
They shoot them in the back
So few miracles her
So much agony
Why do my enemies always win?
Why do they win?
Words of healing that don’t heal
Optimistic visions that don’t gel
Everything I care about, taken
From the most trivial to the most profound
Wistful for what was…
My dear one, my double, my love
Agony sags, it pulls
It has no neutral face

-October 9, 2008-