I told you,
'I never thought I'd admire Juliet's stupidity.
She at least had the courage to be reckless.'
Your only reply:
'Ars Longa [art is long]
Vita Brevis' [life is short]
'How true' I responded,
'I'm working on the art
part of that. Making my
life a work of it may be
somewhat more difficult.'
'Now you just sound like
me five years ago.'
For everyone else
these fleeting words
are fiction.
For us they are our
general interaction.
People may wonder why
I've been stuck on you
since we were kids.
Perhaps that's the point.
You were always the other
half of me. Even when we saw
with innocent minds.
Though philosophical debate arise,
you were never my enemy.
You defend Percy Shelley's poetry to me,
not with your own words. But with his.
Winning a smile, changing an opinion
and causing a blush to pink my cheeks.
'The truth, as with most things in life, resist's simplicity.'
I had complained, part quoting one of my favourite authors.
To which you wrote, 'Such is the nature of feeling.'
You flirt like Byron and keep the same hours.
You speak of Proust & how he liked to smell the flowers,
with all his involuntary memories filling seven volumes.
We were our own kind of perfect.
~
a/n This is a piece that never made it into POISON, but isn't quite right for Antidote either. This can also be known as 'Owl's are the Best part 2.'
YOU ARE READING
With Love: A Collection of Works
PoetryA Collection of different writing medias I've experimented with, from prose, poetry and song lyrics to (very) Short Stories & 'Articles.' Some of these will be new pieces for this book, others I may have written a few years ago and just never had a...
