Saturday, May 28, 2016

pov


she leaves his life never to return
and so he kindles it like a burn
like an ember that hides a raging fire
or a cold yet consuming funeral pyre
aye, his memory of them belongs to the past
but see how sweet-talk can make it last
(see how long it can continue to be
when there’s only you left, of you and me)
and so he copes, with shards of yesterday
bent and bowed, from tears that weigh
and what of her, must you curiously ask
she takes to cigarettes, a swig of the flask
she takes to men, one each black night
and in blazing darkness, finds her light
as she realizes, with a toss of her hair
in the mirror she’s alone; he never was there
aye habits picked up, can easily be dropped
and nostalgia is evil, it’s meant to be stopped
so she remembers to forget, to care about him
till the remembering gets hazy; hey now it’s dim
till all that she recalls is there was a man
a fast fickle fellow, oh how quick he ran!
so she smiles and snuggles with her point of view
and believes forever – only her love was true.

ram cobain

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