The words had to trickle
at their very own pace.
Otherwise, we wouldn’t have met
face to face.
We glanced at each other through the hour of glass,
yet it took many years to find your class.
My style remained an instant bore,
you insisted on me, then you needed more.
So off into the seasons of life,
you pranced about with your lovely wife.
I kept my rules and thoughts intact,
even when I realized you didn’t have my back.
Forgoing the long term dissolution,
marriage to anyone wasn’t my solution.
The trickle of words ran down my back,
giving me notice of the long feared attack.
Blazing swords of pain so deep,
yet my love for you will always keep.
Pressed flowers against the pages I wrote.
Taped within, I found your note.
Genuine? Or was it simply a joke?
I have forgotten you more
between each bubble bath soak.
Whenever the time has sent the birds;
along with them will be my trickle of words.
