Two lost souls
in each other found
but for only a moment
fleeting and cruel
for nothing in this life shall last.
Each time I am punished
for sweet folly
in which I know I am
reckless to indulge
but hope is my poison
and a high I cannot forfeit.
I trick myself to escape
regret over the walls,
once my steadfast fortress,
which I let crumble and decay
so that I wear my pain plainly
as testimony to my recklessness.
My tears fall, not only for the future I know
we no longer have chance to possess,
but also for the past:
a time in which I felt I was enough.
Maybe the flaw can be found
within my own nature,
a restlessness only a gypsy soul
will ever know
married to unwavering expectation
that the standard by which
I conduct my own action
is fair to desire in return.
All of this I think
in the dark hours
of midnight
as you sleep soundly, my love,
while alone I sleeplessly weep
with the realization of the fact
that all you will ever give me of love
is the same I've always known.