I wonder if it matters anymore
What I decide to write. Should I compose
A breathless melody in haunting prose
Or trashy poetry that you abhor,
Disfigured or discordant scribblings, or
A flight of fancy which, delightful, grows
Only in my mind, but which still throws
Stray beams of beauty towards you, would your
Opinion of me change? It will, of course,
But not because of anything I write.
The ravages of time, to my despite
Will overwhelm our friendship with such force
That though we see it coming, our foresight,
Much like my writing, won't stop our divorce.
No comments:
Post a Comment