by Robin Bond

Created on: April 30, 2008

Beginning's End

There was a time
when I believed
this world was made for me.
The birds, they flew,
the grass it grew,
the wind blew,
solely
for me to see,
or to feel,
to have faith in something real-
really powerful.
Then I saw you,
and you
corrupted my vision,
made me feel I was healthy,
with your temporary remission.
Made me realize that giving,
was more than receiving,
and that the world wasn't based on what

I was believing.
We've consulted, and conversed,
forwarded, and reversed,
ran and hid from each other while we cuddled.
And while we huddled,
your arms became my comfort zone,
till now I pretend they are mine.
Your ears have become my diary,
please keep it sacred for all time.
An unspoken truce
for a spark that never lit,
or a light
that just couldn't reach the spark,
left us nothing more than ashes;
soot, in a firey pitt, amongst dark.
I hadn't thought of the days when
my heart it would weaken,
and my lungs,
they would scream for your air.
I seem to only exhale the poison, for
I was ill-prepared
for your medicine.
With the thoughts that run
curiously
throughout my altruistic mind,
I find,
we were broken so long ago.
Drunken nights of soberness,
and a high without a low
I haven't noticed your cough in a while,
did it really just up and go?
If you have found your cure,
why haven't you shared your
alleviation?
Are you afraid the one you've found
is nothing more
than your own creation?
A placebo, a numbness,
a figment
of imagination?
I imagine you imagine me;
at times her eyes are mine.
Can't you seem them in her twinkle?
Or feel my tingle in her spine?
It cannot be much longer
before your disease will eat me whole,
and it's a killer to the soul,
to know
you don't.

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