1006Jan of a thousand days,
that's just how long
we lasted,
give or take a day
or so.
From the Coliseum
to Milton Malsor
from the intensity
of new embraces
to the marrow of your
dislike of me
One thousand and six days
of us.
Eleven hundred and three
times, from first kiss to last
the earth rolled like a marble
around the sun
that filled my life with smiles.
And now
I live in the cold shadow
of our past,
basking not in the warmth
of your embrace
but shivering
in the cold wasteland
of your hate.
It seems now
that even friendship
is unwanted.
You complain
when I'm "being nice"
Is it that you want me
to despise you?
To make it easier to leave?
oh ye of little faith.
The bastion of my love
is impregnable,
its walls will never
tumble to a rubble
of contempt
though battered
by the storms of rage
and war weary,
I wear your colours
on my sleeve
for I have faith
and still believe
there is a new millennia
of days for us
in which to find
a better love
for each other.
A life in which
we can balance
our need for freedom
and our need for us.
I know
you cannot
share the faith
right now:
that freedom pulls
at you
like a giant moon
upon an ebbing tide
but time
and change
may turn the tide
and bring the sea green
of your eyes
lapping once more
against my patient shores.
My castle stands
and under siege
I stand defiant
against the invasion
of your leaving.
Sweetheart,
I can't stop believing
in
we.
Sunday 10th January 1999 11.53 am
