"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship."
Oscar Wilde
Saved;
from an untimely demise,
the kind of blissful death
you only dream about.
Wasted;
Reams of days
our lovers hurt
and we stand dejected.
Hoped;
for something
better to evolve. . .
a new kind of high,
one without a
rotten hangover.
Stilled;
my heart already mends.
While I stand here reeling.
Done;
The dreams
of sweet surrender to a
climactic death lay embittered,
questioning the gauzy excuses
as to why I should hate you.
I don't, you know.
But I can't love you anymore.
It hurts too much.



Out of all I've read today, this was most stunning without doubt!
An excellent story expressed so beautifully.


9 old applause
