~Gone~

~Gone~

What ink should I write our story?

What paper would eyes behold?

Trails that you never walked, or

Let pens slither on their own?

Once Gone, such easily you’d walk in,

Smiling away all the pain to forgone

Blinking still in the light of doubts,

I’d close my heavy eyes in familiar arms

Dreams would snatch me, eager ‘n nude

Lulling my fears into a labyrinth of loss

Then I’d hold your hands more tightly

Clutching them throughout my sleep

But, you’d steal them again, to be Gone

To return once more — again to be Gone..

This is our tale, a fable of false hopes

Who’d say?

What ink should I write our story?

What paper would eyes behold?