Our hands were caught entwined
you paused to take a breath,

“Imagination leads 

to love’s eternal death.”


And I found that extreme,
your warning meant for me

the realist of us both, 

not charmed by fantasy.


It didn’t take me long,

to see that it was true

romance in the present,

you never could pursue.


A daydream in the mind

of all that I could be—

a musing of a poet

or some Greek tragedy.


Lost in all these wonders

you never got the clue:

love was not a symbol

but something meant for you.



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