Wednesday 22nd December 2010, A. Palmer
Pirouetting from a static crowd,
she came into my life and left me.
She left me in a daze of desire
and panic you could hear aloud,
as she led me to a crooked spire.
There, we cemented what we’d fought
and in a moment of weakness, or strength, I cried.
I cried out that it was unfair to be so irreplaceable,
and she, with the depth I’d always sought,
assured me everybody is erasable.
When I recall those moments, it hurts.
It hurts to laugh so hard at my willing.
That I ever believed gravity could grow
from such loose fibres and feelings reverts
I, she, all of you back to what we’d kill to know:
Whose is the face that you will see
when your eyelids kiss for the final time?
Who will you wait for when their time is near?
Only then can you know the identity
of the one you’ve truly loved every second of every year.