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:
... the saddest sonnet yet ...
And it's only April . . . ;-)
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