Saturday, October 22, 2011

Absolute and resolved.

If I am but shaken,
I will not be.
Clutching hands are forbidden
to touch what they seek,
to grasp that thing
which was not always but
now I keep out of your reach.
I have exhaled the fog
which clouds visions,
blurs out dreams,
and seems to keep Spring at bay
longer than the even the frost
would deem appropriate.
You will change
what I have already altered.
You will not find me
defeated, or broken, or
even within your sight.
I have stood back from the precipice
above that well-loved danger,
far from the woman
who gave undeserved affection
to a wayward path.
There is no persuasion strong enough
to make me believe
I'm lost again.

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