When is an entry, one to remember? Is it the clothes, the subtle yell on arrival, perhaps, the person you have made your entry with. Either or, like the entry, I will go ahead and tell you exactly what this is about. Well, it's not a fantasy novel, or some ordinary tale about someone in my life I just need you to know about. It's the tale of my loss. How i was held the most special of things, of what was everything and somehow blew it. How I spent the better part of a lifetime looking, till one fateful day, where I told a friend of my story, she introduced me to her.
Poetic tales aside, when one looks for a partner, they evidently look for their perfect mate, the connection they crave, the simplest of reasons they know they will listen too, and of course, the physical they longingly desire. Their soulmate.
But all rational thinking aside, the lowest point you can achieve, this account is in heaven or hell, depending on your reckoning. But when we speak of low points, then you also have the one where, if obtained, then lost, then the two of you probably need to be shot. It takes two to tango, and in the dance of life, the result of any serious denotation, end, has to be because ultimately, that is what the two of you wanted.
Let's go back, 12 months
Bad days, having apart our way
Lost in confusion, words untold, not entering the ear
Angry with hurt, i dowse my love in the cup of water i hold
And walk for a door, unwittingly, now hold alone
All reasoning aside, my brutal childhood inside
Hers better, but not by much
My shoulders chip has returned
Patience left her
Standing between now the door im in
The framework for more destruction than amendment
In our beginning, our marriage of sight
First impressions differed, mine almighty, her, maybe not
But as time would pass
Our meetings more frequent
A crazy night in St Kilda
Lead to the holding of hands.
The respect and ferocity for each other
Even tearing at each other
Followed the moon and its tides.
The sun, and its shadows.
When you see feel and know
You’re, we are
But not us.
We fought for more
We were not,
Satisfaction is gone.
I do not enter this in voice
But blood my friends
Pouring out from inside
So the gods mights hear
And recount to my love
I’ve made wine