Saturday, August 8, 2009

"Maybe it wasn't love after all"

Love is gone,
washed out
with the last sip of wine,
turned off
with the last flicker
of the candle.

We walk out
in opposite directions,
without sadness,
engraved with
countless memories...
Your silhouette,
lost in the morning fog
vanished forever.
Your footsteps,
I'll never again
hear approaching.
The lonely bench
in the park
will never again
cradle us,
sharing innocent kisses...
Tram no. 5
will never again
pass us,
as we're walking
hand in hand
through the old streets...

Maybe it wasn't love,
after all...
maybe it wasn't
what we wanted it to be...

2005
© Mirjana Cesar

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