When we first met
I was to be your friend
But I was taking cover
From being your lover.
Then it was set
When I became your lover
That you were taking cover
From being my friend.
And despite all this
(the letdown, the pain and the lying)
It surely sounds absurd:
I was still trying.
Not even a final kiss.
So would you please stop crying?
I don't want to be disturbed
While I'm still dying.
To 03-08-95
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You see, here you'll find poems and prose of opportunity and seasons. They're ours, though, so we have to protect them. Respect! Thank you!
Readers are welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
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