in the beginning
we were born
gods
but
in the end
every one of us
chose to be
a slave
and all that we squandered
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he shuddered with the cold realization
like a bouquet of flowers
on a well kept grave
this love i carried
was useless.
each day there is less here to burn.
If you ever find this letter
take careful note
how it was written in both
our hands.
like books from a library:
i borrowed you,
you borrowed me
there was a lot of whispering
and no late fees
She sat alone, looking at the sea for a very long time.
Deep down I think I knew
the letters I bottled
would never reach your shore.