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"Invasion"
In voices of another love;
of wasted breath and rivulets.
The ache we used to light a fire
as fading adolescence crashed
to prick the skin of awkward youth,
the bones so strong,
the life so brash,
as heavy sighs
became the evening.
Just then a whole and hearty laugh between
ourselves to forge ahead and,
hearing this,
we felt alone,
touched by the angry tilt
of our rush for that other love
as if we knew,
or at least me.
We did not make love;
We invaded love.
Those were the days,
you and I as us without promising. |