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Marmalade Cat

de Black Tape For A Blue Girl

now i only see our intimacy lost-
these thoughts repeatedly creep back to mind.
trivial details.
reminders that certain objects and actions
can never again possess their simple meaninglessness.
that they will always linger in an over-defined state.
that they now possess and hide our intimacy-
that they eternally capture and freeze us.
and dance back as secrets, as memories...
my tormentor.
rooms that slowly overtake me:
when i think that i can return to some form of peaceful existence.
rooms and toys and thoughts and laughter
that seems forever intertwined with my thoughts for you.
fleeting moments of who we were, that keep my life from moving on.
i feel rocked into a comfortable way of life,
in which i prefer to live with these reminders...
rather than make my new beginnings.

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