i stumbled across a text file on my old laptop today and found this poem. The file was dated 9/27/2008. It was written to be a song, so some "rhythm" should be utilized in reading it:

18 years ...

18 years older, not wiser
but worse for the wear;
Eyes closed at the sunset so
i won't be tempted to stare.
The moments, the slices of
everyday ironies clash
with the frivolous needs,
and a shortage of cash.
i'm afraid that i can't be
who i claimed i once was;
Stumbling over the beer cans
while denying this buzz.
i stand idly, while casting
a shadow straight down -
Wiping hands, red with blood,
on a pale wedding gown
that's entrapped in my conscience
worn brittle with age.
Like the stain of a photo
that's been torn from the page.
This love for you echoes
like wisps of a velvety fog;
rising slowly around me,
as i confess to my blog.
You know who you are, and
just why your memory stays -
where it's not wanted, but
still thrashes and flays,
while it renders me breathless
with these thoughts from afar -
like a child who continues
to foolishly wish on a star.
As he can't help but believe
in the legend and lore,
and each wish will go ignored
like the one from before...

Leaves collect on the stone
where your name is inscribed,
where i bargain with God,
but He just won't be bribed -
i'm through shouting, through
crying - i'm done with it all.
Your memory can't haunt me
with each coming of Fall.
For now, the Spring of my
life has brought me some peace -
Rest, here, young lover, until
my life will, then, cease.
And, only then, will we
dance alone by those stars
we once wished upon, gazing
up to them from afar.
Hands drop the crushed petals,
but no tears will i cry -
i've had 18 long years
to breathe this last goodbye.