The End


The streets were filled with cars
and buses with the noise of
people trying to keep ahead
of time. when all I wanted to
do was make time stop.

You and I were sitting on
on a park bench. Two
lovers reclaimed by
by disillusionment. I
couldn’t look at you. I
knew if I did. I would cry.
So much for forever and
always. So much for young
love. Our years together
receding like taillights in the
the fog. Settling into a mist
of dreams we use to have.

I breathe in your scent- Doir
and the faint smell of mint.
A man nearby played the sax
The riffs like steam off the
pavement. The decanted

I couldn’t help glancing
at you one last time.
I had always been a
sucker for your beauty.
My eyes filling up with

I could have leaned in
and said something,
anything to have kept
you there.

Instead I walked toward home
crying and raging. Self pity
holding tightly to my hand.
My fears rising like a thunder
cloud, like the prayers of the
dying before sinking down
into nothingness, like
the castrophe that is
love, like regret, like all
all the spoken and
unspoken sorrows
between us. Breathless
silence, a stale memory
lingering in the air.

If you’re reading this,
it’s been years since then.
And everything’s too late
as it often is, as it always
is in poems like this.


7 thoughts on “The End

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