Lovers, if they Could

Lovers, if they could, would fold
Their early nights of passion
Unto infinite loops of cinematic
Flagrancy, playing out time
Under watch of histories
Far too aloof to interfere
In this spacetime vandalism.

We are mainly disappointments,
Let’s face it.
Ideals and idols
We halt paying homage to,
At first, in anger,
Then later, in apathy
And exhaustion
And perhaps subtle disillusion
As we perceive
How we failed to perfect ourselves
Time and again
Until lateness hovered ominously

Ominous and heavy in the atmospheres
Of illusion we start to swim
Less fearfully
More resigned
To the tiny incremental submersion
Into the new absolving dream
Of quietude
And the reassuring certainty
Of a hopelessness which
Bizarrely offers comfort

And I always knew you weren’t real
In any event
For the waking light lacks substance
Particularly as it passes
Resolutely
Through figments and ghosts.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

3 thoughts on “Lovers, if they Could

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