There is a death
that seems to hover closer too
more alive than life it seems
where the mind drifts, hovers
and therein is beguiled
to the love that once had been.

It's a picture of a thousand words
all unsaid, dead
to what the years enveloped from,
A journey that has no founded beginning
just an end that lingered all along the way
Seen within the first hello
and drew its sigh in the last goodbye.

Differences exchanged, held
those tight ropes that draw, cling
then eventually depart
like a sunset where the sun fades and hides
Coincides
to the differences that would unnerve, change
the directions of a road.

The little things that seemed
to bring together, drew fast apart
the hidden agenda of dreams, emotions
that wore, tore, the world apart
and left the long archaic hinge of death
upon the words that faded away.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph