The Secret of Emotional Mist
The Secret of Emotional Mist
Evincing nothing, she remained mute
To nuanced intimations of intimacy.
There was nothing left to conclude but that
The greatest prison is boredom,
The greatest torture --- betrayal.
Thus we parted in the concrete now
Leaving behind that nebulous separation
We had shared almost as if a secret,
Venturing towards precious.
Just as an ill-fashioned keystone
can splinter upon contact if
timing is precise...
Why is it that Time seems to know just
When to strike?
Always.
Leads me to believe
That if Time is not anthropomorphic
it is nonetheless prescient
No. That can't be right...
Time predates and outlives all
(has already outlived us all).
Romantics claim other yet I
Dare gainsay them each and every
Spirit can be broken
like glass
Love become mere bagatelle,
Children, still tuned to magic,
laugh at us as we follow our own
Shades to the underworld of
Wonderment and wonder
How did I ever believe
The intangible was not frangible?
Copyright © R. H. White | Year Posted 2019
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