This is not your story and I am not your friend,
We can construct meanings from traced etchings
Or we could just pretend.
I won’t tell you of heroes that never fell to fault.
I won’t weave a yarn from frayed endings,
All I have is circling salt.
Perhaps I’ll sit inside it and look out at the sands,
And you can sit beside me,
Whilst I unmake our plans.
Don’t think that we were lovers, we weren’t even known.
I think i need to see the edge,
Where swan’s songs chime alone.
You could watch me as I set out; you could turn away and hear
My cry as I let it out,
That fills my distance to the pier.
Before tide, sweep smudged circles; now mixed with sanded dust.
Reform them to make your fortune,
Whilst my riches wear to rust.
Oh, but this is not yours or even mine,
This is just a moment,
Beats of inevitable rhyme.
So don’t think this is for or of you,
You are a shadow on a shore.
You are not and cannot
Reach me anymore.