The river

the tears haven’t stopped falling
and the nightmares seem all so true
why am i sitting all by myself?
when i should be there by you..

maybe the streets go in circles for 
reasons you’ve not deciphered—
surely there is some kind of order,
some kind of reason to the erratic map

what is
the meaning of the dead rose
preserved within a book
as if to say
that time froze

i am still right here
a temporal and spatial aberration
looking straight into the heart of the universe
to whom i am no relation

it is love, surely, that keeps the leaves turning
perpetually from green to fall’s caramelized mauves and tans 
this could be the best place you have known,
except you are conspicuously alone

it wasn’t always this way
why then has true love lost it’s way

love is merely fear
of being happy once and then losing it forever

love is hunger
love is an allergic response, a reaction to the chemicals in our bodies
love is merely the effect of losing equilibrium 
love is a withdrawal symptom

the only love that lasts is unrequited love
the one i promised to share with you
but you scoffed
you laughed
and you moved away

I think the river knows more about love 
than any expert 
all day it reflects the leaf-burdened trees and the heavy clouds, never touching
anything but stone and mud 
but it never quits

and neither shall i
until we reach the ocean
for you
my love shall flow freely
all the way

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