Amour, Adieu
I’ve been saying goodbye to lots of things lately. Some not by choice, others out of necessity. I’ve seen you from time to time since. You rush to me with warm smiles and soft arms. Always sad eyes though. Sad eyes as you feed me a lifetime of information in a glance.
You ask me if the number is still the same. Yes, I always say. It hasn’t changed. But everything has.
We have splintered indeed. Our lives indefinitely forked. You keep your distance…
How foolish of me to believe our connection existentially transcendent. It is the same as every other before. Normal. Recycled. How profoundly sad.
If I shall pass you in the street, in two months, or two years--catch a familiar scent, sound-- Will my fibers still remember you?
You are clairvoyant. You know that dream you had about my death—it has come.
You ask me if the number is still the same. Yes, I always say. It hasn’t changed. But everything has.
We have splintered indeed. Our lives indefinitely forked. You keep your distance…
How foolish of me to believe our connection existentially transcendent. It is the same as every other before. Normal. Recycled. How profoundly sad.
If I shall pass you in the street, in two months, or two years--catch a familiar scent, sound-- Will my fibers still remember you?
You are clairvoyant. You know that dream you had about my death—it has come.
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