connecting*the*dots

a swing in the path
of an oncoming train
a down pouring rain
a love lost in vain
but what i can do is steer straight onwards and discover
that these dried up tears have coincided with another
maybe at a different time
certainly in the past
but these tears are not alone
they’re not alone, yet alas…

she is not even in my sights
yet i see her so clear
the sweetness of her voice
the purity of her tears
why is it i that must be the romantic at heart
discovering virtue one day after the part
of the role i auditioned for
has now been given up…
i’m late on the scene
she drinks from another cup

onwards and upwards is the new battle cry
but I have to ask myself the tough questions
of was it me or a simple as to why…

i’m sure i’ll move on
to find a way to survive
but a love like mine
takes root and begins to thrive
probably too much on the self
maybe just on the notion
but i’ll be damned if my love
wouldn’t cause me to sip from that shakespearian potion

alas…