This existential love affair lived on its own terms
What were we waiting for?
Our Godot did not show
Life, death, politics
Then there was us
Mordant philosophers we were
Bathing in ennui
The *** was good
Almost always is
The conversation in cafes our currency
Who had the best bon mot?
So savory  
Everything mattered
And nothing at all
We fought for our love because we thought we should
It died of its own accord
It moved on
Orbits still a satellite in my thoughts
Searching for its heart