At the cusp of two rivers in death I chose
To forget.
Fallen into place, the perfect gentleman
In a foreign land, I took my prize and hesitated.
There you were
An artifact neglected
And how I spent the days in thought
Of lands unclaimed, of lost frontier
My memory could not keep you
And so you were here.
Polished and new like a fashioned lie
You kept me impure, I couldnt accept
Your gaze or your grasp
Even when the prize proved hollow
Still, still I followed.
Every detail of your form
Dripped from my lips, my pen
And you lapped it up
Drinking till my shadow was left
To mourn the loss of its host
In runaway seasons
You have buried me with the others
The skeletons smiling to have loved you
I had loved you, I had loved you
At the cusp of death, of the two rivers
I had chosen to forget.
