A Lost poem - Penny centric
Penny has been much on my mind of late, and as April is poetry month, I am presenting you with a poem - Pen-centric and spoilery for The Constant. Many thanks to hendercats who lent me this Des/Pen icon. *smooches*
"Reason is not what decides love." Moliere
Without Reason
resolve is an easy thing to hold
when words are filtered through miles of fiber optic cable,
and contempt is bolstered
by absence and the memory of bitter partings
the hardest thing she had ever done
was to stand in the entry of her expensive new flat
watching the only man she had ever loved,
(still loved)
unravel before her eyes
no longer crazed, as on the pier
(the day the world fell away)
when she was lost and falling
with no one to stop her downward spiral,
no one to save her from herself
except herself
no longer crazed, but falling now
on his own
and this is, (she is)
his last chance at salvation
flights of fancy
spun 'round delusional dreams;
promises made, impossible to keep.
eight years.
christmas eve.
two thousand and four.
she does not trust him
(not with her heart)
only a child would believe him
(she's packed away the fairy tale)
none but a fool would even care
(she's hardened her heart)
the shock comes when the numbers tumble
unbidden from her lips,
when against all good sense and reason
she throws him a lifeline
then shows him the door.
7946-0893
eight numbers.
(no reason to hope)
eight years.
(no reason to believe)
eight lifetimes.
(no reason to love)
yet when the phone rings
christmas eve
two thousand and four
she does hope,
she does believe,
she does love -
without reason.
~~~
"Reason is not what decides love." Moliere
Without Reason
resolve is an easy thing to hold
when words are filtered through miles of fiber optic cable,
and contempt is bolstered
by absence and the memory of bitter partings
the hardest thing she had ever done
was to stand in the entry of her expensive new flat
watching the only man she had ever loved,
(still loved)
unravel before her eyes
no longer crazed, as on the pier
(the day the world fell away)
when she was lost and falling
with no one to stop her downward spiral,
no one to save her from herself
except herself
no longer crazed, but falling now
on his own
and this is, (she is)
his last chance at salvation
flights of fancy
spun 'round delusional dreams;
promises made, impossible to keep.
eight years.
christmas eve.
two thousand and four.
she does not trust him
(not with her heart)
only a child would believe him
(she's packed away the fairy tale)
none but a fool would even care
(she's hardened her heart)
the shock comes when the numbers tumble
unbidden from her lips,
when against all good sense and reason
she throws him a lifeline
then shows him the door.
7946-0893
eight numbers.
(no reason to hope)
eight years.
(no reason to believe)
eight lifetimes.
(no reason to love)
yet when the phone rings
christmas eve
two thousand and four
she does hope,
she does believe,
she does love -
without reason.
~~~