Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue
but you seem to have re-written,
the story of what was once you and me;
put as much distance as you can
between then &
the smiles & the all that time spent together:
eventually the touch of all those memories
& only the faintest trace
can believing a lie make it a truth?
because I believe in the lie
that you still love me too;
the heart beating beside me every night,
that heart belongs to you.
Wherever we find ourselves next,
whoever else you let into your bed,
the feeling is still in my chest.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I will make my way to you
All night we will talk &
drink wine, while outside
twilight will silently deny
colour to the flowers of your garden.
Inside, we’ll remain ignorant
of all this save
for some ineffable sense of
as we talk & laugh.
drink wine & then,
It’ll be fun
but through it all,
a loneliness will prevail:
The distance between us
is too vast to measure, & we
know that it won’t last forever.
Why do we do this to each other?
I loved someone,
in the same way,
& for the same reason
I love the moon:
you don’t need to see it every day,
to know that you’ll see it again;
you can’t always see it, but
you know it’ll always be there…
months became years & those years
became the unnoticed mouldering kiss;
a distance turning stale,
old & cold as the
So lonely not knowing how to explain
until too late,
& strange to find how changed
the feeling is when found again;
the pain so far away
just like the Moon.