You graced my view
as you rode past,
driven
and
lackadaisical
perhaps.
I watched on
noting your purity,
holiness, obscurity,
limit,
intrinsic
cold and warmth,
body and girth,
as you wore your experience
since birth, and perhaps before.
I saw all these things and more.
Strained from afar,
my mind ajar,
you are vapid.
I silently goad,
searching your soul,
for more for me,
but
you feel empty,
stoic.
You pass,
I lust,
bygone beauty.
Still those things,
the deep mystery
within cry.
And though I
tear inside,
the moments demise,
I laugh,
that moment is past
and so our present.
Those things we did
and those we didn't
fulfilled the prophecy,
our fickle destinies
not to incite envy,
but reverie.