We indulged the fantasy,

And its rice paper skin blistered in the afterglow,

Crumpled like old, once glorious Christmas wrapping,

The illusion of connectedness, formed in loneliness,

Was neither a blanket of comfort, nor a quilt upon which

To etch a future, my love.

I would have crossed that ocean a thousand times,

But a thousand times I would have simply chased

The finger pointing at the moon

I wanted to build us both a house,

But got lost in the details of the house itself,

A frame built upon a foundation of clay

I failed to see, we failed to see, the fantasy was….vapor

A faint smell….a trace of the oil we dared not touch,

Consumed in the mist of our private escapes.

And still, I blamed you for what was my own fault.

And weaved that blanket into a cloak of deceit and threats,

And exploited your self-absorbed vanity to my advantage.

Would I have exposed you….us? You know the answer.

I would cross that ocean again a thousand times,

To help you find peace. To undo the damage that was done.

I would cross the ocean again a thousand times,

If I could reset the fantasy…set us both upon our own

Divergent paths….erased the error of our crossings.

I would erase ‘us’ and wouldn’t that be best?

.

[Edited 11/30/11 4:21am]

imago said:

We indulged the fantasy,

And its rice paper skin blistered in the afterglow,

Crumpled like old, once glorious Christmas wrapping,

The illusion of connectedness, formed in loneliness,

Was neither a blanket of comfort, nor a quilt upon which

To etch a future, my love.

I would have crossed that ocean a thousand times,

But a thousand times I would have simply chased

The finger pointing at the moon

I wanted to build us both a house,

But got lost in the details of the house itself,

A frame built upon a foundation of clay

I failed to see, we failed to see, the fantasy was….vapor

A faint smell….a trace of the oil we dared not touch,

Consumed in the mist of our private escapes.

And still, I blamed you for what was my own fault.

And weaved that blanket into a cloak of deceit and threats,

And exploited your self-absorbed vanity to my advantage.

Would I have exposed you….us? You know the answer.

I would cross that ocean again a thousand times,

To help you find peace. To undo the damage that was done.

I would cross the ocean again a thousand times,

If I could reset the fantasy…set us both upon our own

Divergent paths….erased the error of our crossings.

I would erase ‘us’ and wouldn’t that be best?

.

[Edited 11/30/11 4:21am]

Nice to read your poetry again, Imago. You have such a strong grasp of imagery and personal observances that I sometimes feel as if I am there--looking through your eyes.

This is pretty friggin awesome, dude! Wowzers!

purplethunder3121 said:

imago said:

We indulged the fantasy,

And its rice paper skin blistered in the afterglow,

Crumpled like old, once glorious Christmas wrapping,

The illusion of connectedness, formed in loneliness,

Was neither a blanket of comfort, nor a quilt upon which

To etch a future, my love.

I would have crossed that ocean a thousand times,

But a thousand times I would have simply chased

The finger pointing at the moon

I wanted to build us both a house,

But got lost in the details of the house itself,

A frame built upon a foundation of clay

I failed to see, we failed to see, the fantasy was….vapor

A faint smell….a trace of the oil we dared not touch,

Consumed in the mist of our private escapes.

And still, I blamed you for what was my own fault.

And weaved that blanket into a cloak of deceit and threats,

And exploited your self-absorbed vanity to my advantage.

Would I have exposed you….us? You know the answer.

I would cross that ocean again a thousand times,

To help you find peace. To undo the damage that was done.

I would cross the ocean again a thousand times,

If I could reset the fantasy…set us both upon our own

Divergent paths….erased the error of our crossings.

I would erase ‘us’ and wouldn’t that be best?

.

[Edited 11/30/11 4:21am]

Nice to read your poetry again, Imago. You have such a strong grasp of imagery and personal observances that I sometimes feel as if I am there--looking through your eyes.

yes indeed! Its just so sad....woulda coulda shoulda is the worst of them all!!!!!!!!!!!!!