Each time I love, I find I've lost
the moment after.
Loss of self, creating a new image
every day. You do it too. Rearranging
hair and eyes and clothes
to fit the people we pretend
to be. A different person every day.
Once we pretended to love.
But the art of losing's not too hard to master.
We created different selves, now make
a beautiful disaster.
Loss leaves vacant spaces,
places needing to be remade
where empty holes are not.
These things cannot be.
How can a thing that once was
simply cease to be? A black hole
absorbs all the existent things
into itself. The art of losing
isn't hard to master. Practice
falling harder, falling faster.
No comments:
Post a Comment