…of maybe

Deep desires, drowning in the dawn
silently drifting into the mist
where memories colour the wind
like the pale blue pools of your eyes
a trick of the light
illuminating the depths of loneliness
waves of what ifs and why nots
relentlessly eroding the what was
erasing the truth, the truth of love
an endless sea where horizons are mirages
and love fills every corner, every crevice
every second, every minute and every hour
even love, long lost and unrequited
insatiable, still lingers
like the ache of hunger in a place of famine
where illusions become reality
and reality fades into the silence
the silence that harbours the shifting shades of maybe
the malleable memories that cling to the depths of our souls
like the roots of a dying tree, withering day after day
oblivious to the absence of life
to the relentless passage of time
flooding our veins with the dark art of love and loss
shrinking the universe around us
imprisoning us in the unseen grip
of a creature that cannot be held
only to release us without warning
abandoned into the void
unprepared for the reality of pain
yet inevitably we circle back
surrendering to it all, over and over again
© Ann Bagnall