I sit before you,
the beauty I lusted for
no longer reflected against my eyes.
We hold each others gaze
for a long while,
reconciling time,
but no matter how I add the moments
they don't equal the empty death
which now bows before me.
You take it so well,
being still,
your faded yellows and
dried lines
out of tune with the
rotation of the sun.
I'd like to believe that my time
and yours,
are not of the same color and type -
that what you sense and remember is
just as rich and eventful....
and long -
with some ancient thing,
sitting still
beneath a flurry of stars,
believing the same of me.
