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| Fallen Angels | |||||
| We play games that neither can win. Yet foolishly we stumble on, in the vain hope that one day we might find the answer to all these questions. We know what is right, what would satisfy us both, but we will not admit it. For so long have we spent apart, the thought of change scares us into submission: for we do not want it to end. We start past the truth, and focus on the false security we have, the knowledge that we do not belong to one another: this is our life. Commitment is not something that we take for granted, in fact, commitment scares us to death. But we continue on in the false hope that one day it may just seem less scary: or do we? He is but a man after all, not a god. What have I to lose in losing him? This I do not know, this I so not want to know. Fear! Fear is what binds our souls together, yet fear is also what pulls us apart. We cannot stay together, yet we cannot leave. At night, I lie awake dreaming of something better, still drawn to the thought of a life eternally together. But we do not want this: we said as much. We do not want to limit things to one person, not to one another: so we part. Months could go by, not a word is exchanged between us. Yet when he returns things are still the same, for time means nothing to us: we are immortal in our minds. He pays no attention to time, yet it is of the essence to me. I have, however, learnt through him to disregard time, for it does not govern the soul. Perhaps it is this lack of regard for time, for rules, that makes it so hard for him to commit to one person. Perhaps this is why I fear what he does. He has run away for so long, from time, the past, perhaps even the future: he will never stop, and we both know it. So from the grace of God we fall to the ground, and know that tonight will be flawless: no fighting, no hate. We have a crazy love, one that is free of prejudice, cruelty and animosity: at least when we’re together. Tears can fall a thousand times, but show them not to him. He doesn’t want to see me cry, for I am his retreat. He runs to me for security when the world gets him down, in the knowledge that I will never reject him, never tell him his flaws. I live for him, and would never paint his world blue: I am his, and he is mine, yet we own nothing. Everything falls back to the final world, commitment: or lack of it. And that is where we lose this game of love and war. Because we can commit to neither, and thus remain in limbo, unable to walk in one direction or the other: we are but angels fallen from grace. All poetry and writing is property of D. Leonard. No rights or permissions are granted for display of these works on other websites, webchats or in other forms. Please contact me for details on using my works. Please, read the legal information first. |
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