The Atlanta Triad:


So here I am
Writing poems again
When I thought
There was no need anymore
Had sufficient voice to speak
But the silence closes in again
And now I need a voice that's oblique

I remember
Summer, two years gone
Sitting in the sunlit grass
As you held me in your arms
Full of hopeful dreams that seemed so close
Within our reach, achievable--
Tell me, where did it all go wrong?

I could speak of the emptiness of my goal
I could speak of the future that you sold
But I'd learn to live for now
Survive and struggle through somehow
If if were not for your love going cold

Is there any way to say this
Without sounding a cliché?
Here I am writing of broken hearts
I never thought I'd see the day
I've written so many songs for dreams
Singing of loss I never knew--
Is it possible to tell the truth this way?

I could speak of the destinies we failed
I could speak of habits old and now grown stale
But the reason has no meaning
I am drowning in your death of feeling
Freezing in the cold that my soul knows well of old