On Looking Back
I’ve seen the footage. The shining hope, the certainty of all of one’s joys gathered into the arms of this story of a man, all of one’s youthful, ecstatic love.
Then years, being bruised by one happiness or another, and several attempts at poetry about the sea-blue depths of eyes.
And now a seeking of hands, a more animal desire, a fearing of death – that lonely bright light –
a turning away from the dark kindnesses of dreams where history rewrites itself, reaching back into the soul not yet bruised; those sea-blue eyes; that hopeful, breakable, brave little heart.
Then years, being bruised by one happiness or another, and several attempts at poetry about the sea-blue depths of eyes.
And now a seeking of hands, a more animal desire, a fearing of death – that lonely bright light –
a turning away from the dark kindnesses of dreams where history rewrites itself, reaching back into the soul not yet bruised; those sea-blue eyes; that hopeful, breakable, brave little heart.
oletus
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