Our Song

Our Song

You and I, we dance in the echoes
of the time that we lost
when we were both too quiet to speak of love.
Our hearts, secrets we never should have kept
only kept us from a joy our own.
I held my tongue as if circumstance was a cat,
and I for all the world would not put myself
between you and the happiness I thought you had chosen.
I taught myself to want what I had,
let it be enough to be thankful
for all the hours we stole unnoticed from the clock.
And you, when the time came to speak,
spoke softly, and subtly, about dreams realized too late.
And I, when my turn came, was no less subtle
when I said there was no reason it should be a dream.
Inside I was shouting, loud enough for the stars to hear,
HERE I AM.

We both know the song and how it goes,
but I swear I hear it playing still,
as if on some far off phonograph, its once-strong voice
resounding off steep peaks of past and present.
I will stand here, listening,
looking out over this ocean of what was
until the waves of sound crest,
crash upon a silent shore
and the next songs begins or this one
plays again.
<span style="color: rgb(51, 50, 51); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-deco

ration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; “>If I tap my foot a bit, even after the music ends,
who can blame me?

Ballroom

Do you remember the dancers
on the walls of that empty room,
posed as if someone had captured our shadows
while we danced?
From the doorway it was just space;
cold, constellations of lonely silhouettes in a white sky
above a checkered earth.
Only one small lightbulb for a sun
and a partially boarded window for moonlight.
You and I gave it life.
One step over that threshold,
in each others arms we reached escape velocity,
explored a universe of our own making
while music played and our soles
remade the dust-scuffed floor in our image.

Why Morgan?

Mm..well if you knew how many women think I’m a pretentious little bitch you might say different..however, it’s quite quaint – your idealism.

Is this your way of apologising?

I’m not looking for an apology per we..and to be fair there’s not much point in going through it all..just to say that I didn’t expect you to message me again

*per se

I know that…and anyway it’s not me, it’s you. I don’t like that you leave half baked comments on my page and expect me to beg for clarification..I want all of your thoughts without having to ask. I think I deserve at least that much

Plus..the “unrequited love” nature of your Poems irritates me no end…I just don’t feel we can really be friends because you drag this dead horse from your past around with you and it feels like a barrier…something you are preoccupied with, and I find that frustrating.

Ryn`s : It seems to me that you are putting a limiter on our friendship. I’m not jealous or petty but I am honest, and you can’t ask me to be honest with you and then criticise me for being so. I don’t pretend to know what’s going on in your life..I just know what you decide to tell me. If you choose to hold back then yes, that’s your choice, but doing that means you are keeping me at arms..

Also your decision, but if you find me terse on occasions, know that it’s because this friendship isn’t on an equal footing imo. But I refuse to coerce you because you’re a grown man and I honestly really don’t give two hoots about your “love”- it just sounds like you’re being taken for a bit of a mug.

Ry love poems – I don’t read them, I might read 1/2 lines and I generally have an idea that they will be self-pitying. I’m not being nasty here but I have met men who are pining after some woman and I dont enjoy reading about it. It echoes of weakness and a kind if existential self- disillusionment. It’s simply not my cup of tea. Post them, by all means, but don’t expect me to..

Positively comment. Re our acquaintance, you make your own decisions about it. I won’t mind either way, I don’t write on here for you or anyone else, it’s my own record of my life. You can be harsh, stubborn and yes, on occasion your reactions to me have hurt, but luckily, you don’t mean enough to me to be truly impactful. Long may that continue.