I Am Not Radha

I can still feel you –
Our last kiss on the street –
A place I left you often –
Where we’ll never meet –

I remember still your tears –
Mixing with mine –
As you said good bye –
And ended us for all time –

I remember your golden hair –
Your lips, your spit, your eyes –
And suddenly I hate this life
Where all we live for dies –

I feel the emptiness
As I sit in the wind, under the moon –
And I hate the fact of life
That this feeling will pass soon. –

But I hope you feel this pain
That returns since we tore apart –
I hope it still makes you break –
The way you broke my heart –

Old Song

I heard an old song
Sing its pain;
It reminded me
Of us again.

Old songs do that:
Sifting their tune,
Cradled on lost stars
And a forgotten moon.

The words aren’t the same:
They are rusty hooks
And dried old flowers
In dusty books.

It always befalls
That the singer is me;
And what we were
Becomes his melody.

It’s three minutes
Of our past;
Yet, it’s these three
That will last.

Thinking Of You

…keep thinking of you…
I don’t regret that you have left.
It’s just the way you did.

It’s not that I am bereft.
It’s not that I didn’t try.

It’s just that I was dying
And you, actually, did die.