Swaying ~ William Taylor Jr

You once imagined me beautiful.
In truth I was as common as a wasted day
and you were just another story
that nobody wanted to hear.
There is a kind of beauty
that is a wound we don’t
recover from,
the kind most will never see,
blind as old gods banished
and forgotten into darkness.
Our addled hearts lead us
down dubious avenues
and each choice we make
murders infinite possibilities;
see us standing on street corners
with our aborted lives still
inside us like mangled dreams
we refuse to abandon.
I stand at the window
swaying to the broken
music of the day,
looking out upon this
terrible city,
my heart full of dust
and that time I made you laugh.


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