Hoping Never
i'm doing what
the French
did once
have a wife
and have
a lover
but she's not
a mistress
to me
she's simply
a mystery
to me
she's out
loudly in
spiring
springing
words
on me
in mistrans
lated
poetry
and non
blinking
photography
i'm happy
as she
exactly
makes my
day as i
make
my bed and
that being
said she
greets me
every
night
in my thoughts
i'm holding
tight but
not to ever
let her go
where
her
dreams
will carry
her but
still buried
in my soul she
shall go
to live
her
life and i
will think
of what life
would be
without
her
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