Knowing so little of what is unknown

I had only eight verbs to my name
And the aesthetics of antlers
I called for joyous naiveté
And you answered
Recorded everything for posterity

I called
And you answered

An echo in the chasm of an unfilled mind

I left you gathering dust
That dearest part of a former life
Never able to deny we were
Never closer then

The closest thing I’ve ever felt
To being something that it is like
To be me being liked is what it was like

Being something with you

Being called from the nothing
Being called through the stages
Being passionate plumbed profound
Being lost for an ending

And a pretty little bow

Never parting glances
No retraced steps
Overlooked misdirections

Being called the youthful vigour

The failed first love never forged
The mistakes for lessons
Only made-up scars

Careering on through lexicons
The simple tongues
The romance of flowers and sunshine
And forlorn looks

Affectation and disdain

I used you to while away the hours
Used to hold you close
Like so much
Discarded

Minute things

//ends