Couched in Our Indifference

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The distance is not bearable
Sometimes when your eyes and her eyes
Are as far apart as our words and moods.
Outside, toots and revving engines flow,
As, with silences of sorts, we mark the floor.

Will I ever mean to you what,
In the fresh moments of belief, I always meant to be:
The horseman and the stallion of
Your life’s essence; life’s destiny? And
Love lingers, still, soft, slow, as

From a hurt distance, insistently she would lift
A cat-like whisker. My whisper
Reaches your chipped heart like from across a dream
And it touches a damp spot, like a faint ray
Before the breaking of a morning beam.

Hold out to me a compassionate hand
That, in its aching love, understands
My soul, the uncompromising love
In its depths as it holds,
Penelope.

2011-07-03

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