It was such a long time ago when you said
there is a method to my madness, and
cliches sounded sweet coming from your lips,
and poetry sounded epic
from your strong hands.
It was such a short time ago when you visited
me from your European swirl, and
begged me to stay
down on my knees.
I believed in poetry
like a Catholic believes in Christ.
I believed in you
like a woman in love.
I lost some hope
when you became the black sheep
inside yourself. You said,
I have a spot next to me, just for you.
You have the art in you.
Silence waits for us.
We put the phones down and
destroyed our sanity.
And it was not such a long time ago
that you loved me
and left me
for all the reasons you first loved me.