The (lustfully) static symmetry

crashes silently through

contorted daydreams--


it was

me and you and

a never-ending-never-starting


a few kisses, and a hand grenade

saying anything that feels good must be good.


and then-

sipping sideways at

excess memories

lightly through my drink,

and as the ice clicks against the glass

I think,

at least we have the experience


there were

formal goodbyes and a

temporary understanding


when I told you

I have no regrets.





(some things are ((better)) left unsaid.)