we never really spoke at all.

 

So now it finally must end

as I am taken once again

by collared, artistic agenda.

 

I cut languid love loose

re-tie dumb, devoted knots

that only he will now render.

 

Forbidden of fruitful verse

which may wistfully introduce

play on words of mourning.

 

My pen breathing jealous

reluctantly moulds itself madly

into new, amorphic belonging.

 

So you remain not lost – yet never found.

Source material that floats as cirrus,

I cannot speak to you anymore.

 

© Katypoetess 2015