Passing By

The days and nights keep passing by without you.
We'll never find a love as kind as one that we once shared.
I don't know where or when or why the cruelty began to ooze
through all you chose to say and do. I only feel the pain
of its arrival; eating through the last defense you left, too
intertwined with all that once was said.

It seemed so right. But only for a very little while.
Now it seems your every wish and whim were lies.
Lying in the night, invoking passion that was speeding
through our lives. A mist arose. I nearly froze.
Until I could not hear or see the great impassioned lies.
And as our lives were mirrored in the grand reality,
it seemed that more and more, I must be you.

Your thoughts were racing through my brain, you see.
As you slept, I couldn't help perceiving your confusion.
You built it at the core of your illusions. Obsession
spun a lovely web around the ugliness. It touched me
there, where once you touched me too. You left
and then the mighty bomb exploded.

Scattering my life upon the wind. While everywhere
I looked, I only saw the depth of your insanity.
Love had drawn it out for healing. Even as you ran.
As far away as you could go.
It wasn't far enough to leave the slow
and sinuous insanity behind.

For a while I was blind, but now I see.
My soul survived the grief and agony.
An even now, my mind is healing.
Slow but sure. Enhanced reality
enchanted in the mirror of the eyes
I used to love.

And now the days and nights
keep passing by without you.
Your presence was reduced
by manmade time. While what
was once aligned is split apart
by all the apathy that lives
within your heart.

Passing by, and you so unaware.
Hiding in the corners, here and there.
Blinders set in place so that your face
would never seem to change at all.
You never looked behind the mirror.
Your life is just an image, fading fast.

Like worn-out photographs of days gone by.
Etched in stone, the many reasons why
you made it so. But still, the flow is
gathering in you. While all you say
and do keeps passing by...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .