Thursday, April 28, 2016

Past, Present, Future



We have no future, you and I, except
   The one we lived for in the past—what we
Hoped for when I felt weak and you felt kept—
   Fought for and lost—fought hard, lost bitterly.
We have no present now, except for times
   A memory will rise up from its grave
To haunt us with the well-intentioned crimes
   We joined in for a love we could not save.
We have no past except the selfish fervor
   That dragged a common dream into the light.
You clutched it like it was a life preserver.
   I ran from it like it was kryptonite.
      Now that I know it never can come true,
      I run the other way, and dream of you.


 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

2 comments:

R. Vincent Park said...

... the saddest sonnet yet ...

Horvendile said...

And it's only April . . . ;-)