Well, yes, she and also me were the unforeseen ones who used to walk past crossroads,
with the gladly given hands unmistakably glued together, but that was then, or should we say, way back then, when everything
still smelled intimately of hawthorn, red roses and valerian,
and, all of this in a sharp contrast to the stench that spread
the unrequested farewell, as it was unbearable in fact, even a little comparable maybe to a too heavy box filled with precious metal on the poor back of the lame, as you could call it also something
like an all but proverbial mistreatment that split the notion
of a misunderstood love in half, as it even mirrored what happened to that innocent elm in the forest of life, where a zealous candlelight that spoke of love was suddenly put out
by the wrong hands, but, yes, it was perhaps the hand
of this or the holy hand of another God that forgot us not in syllables of the un-blue,
when we see, now, how we possibly made it through...in the ending story of another me
and another you...
So, I guess nothing is actually what it appears to be,
as sometimes, yes, sometimes one better doesn't has to try
to believe in something like a realistic reality,
"unless very briefly, but in a fleeting moment",
a murmuring voice spoke softly to me,
when I saw how an outcast nomansland became the for us, by pulverizing time, elected destiny
in the no longer waltzing and worn down cliches
of a 'to be or a not to be' in a Shakespearean way
when the love that was ours slowly leaped as, yes, then, we both saw how it went away~
