The End. Again.
Every glance,
the starting line,
of another disaster
impending;
Every word we ever spoke,
spun
into the web that
laced our ending .
We fell in love
in retrospect,
but not in
the space we both shared once
Our former selves still linger there,
within photographs and passing thoughts.
We danced the dance, nostalgia leads,
when the past
had tiptoed down the hall,
far enough for the echoes of its footsteps
to hide
beneath the sound of our own beating hearts.















