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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