dull wrist bones shine of absorbed graphite but these tireless etchings
have not been for naught; a self-epiphany, if you will, has emerged
we bid farewell eons ago with eternal finality
it wasn't sentimental
just the simple knowledge, ingrained in our psyches, that nothing blessed ever lasts.
at no point do parallel lines diverge
but darling, our disparate trajectories originated from the same vertex
we mourn the lost innocence of aphrodite's children
but ourselves are guilty of abiding in the shadows
of the scintillating passion we birthed between us.
was love itself so arcane, so beyond our scope of life?
the soft twang of strawberry chapstick on unpracticed palates,
the gentle fingers combing through locks a confused auburn,
the poetic silence of sunrise with my head safely ensconced in the nook between your chin and chest-
was it just another function of life, a rite of passage, a key on the calculator?
we will continue like this
but just know:
my past lover, our bond did not spawn on graph paper