The World’s Wrath
There was a time when snow glistened,
and you were there,
and I cared about life.
I was going to see the world with you.
There was possibility in the wind of Albuquerque.
There was a time,
once,
that I could have been happy.
But winter came and you ran from me, desecrating the only faith I have ever known. The world pounded upon me, playing it’s horrific game at the price of my humanity.
And I thought you hated me.
But you were far away, with no way to voice what your heart said. You wanted nothing more than to hold me close.
And then I died in the rain of Seattle.
But I found you again, a radiance to dry a lonely-soaked heart, and I wrote you. And you sent me a telegram–call me tonight.
You wanted me near.
But I could never touch your cheek, or listen to you moan in my arms at midnight; and nothing I could say could provide you with my hand. Time and distance murdered us again and it was William who found your heart and bestowed a truth I never wanted to hear.
We could never be together.
The world had come between us, and you finally made me cry.