You who in autumn followed here a spring
From your deserted lands and did find me
Wanderer lost on my lean path; are you?
Or was destiny’s die cast too soon?
Are you to curse, or from curses to free?
To make or break me? Answer faithfully.
For you’ve dwindled in grace so close to naught,
Your subtlety (like on a bus) got off.
You seem to crave the spaces between us more,
Or perhaps I am no one that you can love.
I am the same one, say now who you are.
Soul murder-er? Or inamorata?
Say now to permit me yet, or to not,
To give myself to you, or yet to not.
Say quick and release us on either turn –
To leave and let me live, or be the one.
Copyright © Dominic Amezimi | Year Posted 2017