Cuts to the Bone

Traces linger all around

In cold deserted streets and byways.

Dark back alleys hide the tears

Which, wept in acid, burn the flesh

And blur the vision,

Making life just slightly less intolerable

Until a calm can settle in

Encircling fears with an iron mesh.

 

Memories are like the swallows

Flying back to Capistrano.

Even if we tried we couldn't

Fight the fate of their return.

Finger poised on trigger,

Ready to explode when beckoned.

Secrets known to one alone;

A private lesson to be learned.

 

Who can say which love endures?

Who can guess what fates allow?

The starting and the ending find

Us standing naked and alone.

The memory of how it was,

Of how it cannot be again,

Becomes a slashing saber's edge

That cuts you to the bone.

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