I remember you in moonlight,

running far and fast

away from all the broken ties

that bound you

to the place you had to leave.

I remember how,

standing by you

in the brittle icicle-air

I did not say Goodbye,

could not believe that even you -

jokester that you were -

no matter which of love's brutal shards

They cut you with -

could pull off this last practical joke -

this disappearing act.

I remember you leaving

by the light of the moon.



Now we are like the dead,

lackluster shells

of two once-splendid creatures.

We greet one another

embracing - ridiculous -

we never touched before.

Why should this brief visit -

this dim remembrance -

warrant grandeur?

Why must we sit tranquilly

in this pleasant room

convincing one another

that things are fine,

pitching our happiness

a bit too fervently?

We weren't made for this -

laughter was our game.