our stories

we write them ourselves

who cares anymore
about anyone
other

than as a one
to fulfill
our need
our greed
the story book fantancy
of love gone by?

we write the final page long before
its true time

we know the grief to come
we betray our lives
out of what?

boredom?

who knows?

our stories

we write them ourselves
in lines
and lies

well

the lovers are still here!
waiting!

as

songs of betrayal

fill the airways
of hearts and minds