All beauty must fade,
wither, crack, split, die,
and so too the beauty
of sweet hospitality
loses something magical
when put to a test.
Splintering down to
strained smiles,
curt little whispers
behind a turned back
summon up strangleweed
between the gaping cracks
of a path we walked
for so long until "so long."
There's a blind desire
to douse what remains
in that left-behind radiance
with a drowning of petrol,
a gasoline baptism,
and send it out with a pyre:
something to remember.
Love comes and love goes. Romantic, platonic, delusional - why keep score, right?