Farewell,
my love.
It seems I knew you not.
The sound of the closing door
was a whispered sob
that only served to
amplify the tearing of
separation.
Farewell,
my love.
It seems we both forgot.
The days of laughter and love,
at once torrid and tender.
Our words of fealty
and the promises in stone
eroding with time
and the day to day
decay of fantasy.
Farewell,
my love.
We gave it our best shot.
The letdown felt like chains
and the arguments were
thorns in the side
that never healed,
and mortal grace
was insufficient.
Farewell, my love.
We didn’t love a lot.
Our curses even now ring like
minor key bells
in my memory.
Farewell, my love.
In beauty there is rot.
And in the sun’s persimmon rays
we say farewell to better days
in the land of loving thought.
Fare well, my love.
Beyond Panic 