Dying, love steals away the tenderness of my touch.
Like liquid, it rushes in its draining away.
My lovely picture of you fades and yellows with age.
Nothing is left inside but a longing for solitude.

You have the luxury of wishing to alter what has passed,
Destroying happy memories of a union so sweet.
The pain that you have caused through such persistence,
I will not muse about, and refuse to keep.

Rid yourself of innocence, keeping the sour wine of acceptance,
It whittles your spirit away to its bare beauty
And keeps its vigorous mask.
This longing for me is only your mind dreaming.

I wish to be alone in my madness.
Nothing you say will give you the peace that you desire.
It all becomes the masks that you wear.
Our lives will always arrive at this same hour every time.

Soon, you and I shall be here again.

©2001 embereye@diaryland.com