"Make me not like the things forgotten as they had not been
Make not the thing that loveth thee. a tear wiped away"
— William Blake
You and London's dismal sky; forever intertwined.
Overclouded, unrequited.
My parting gift was understanding.
Will you remain the muse of this fleshbound heart,
or will I write you out of memory?
Our great love diminished.
Fumbling with rosary beads —
reduced to prayer, begging for peace.
Fumbling with rosary beads —
undo our knots, reward my faith.
This indefinite gulf — tremulous futurity.
My love will not wither, its roots are too deep.
This indefinite gulf — tremulous futurity.
Souls tethered, but unchained.
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