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I love you in the way of this world,
a love that strikes the hour
but does not mark the full day
a song playing endless refrain
and never the beginning or end
I love all the parts you have left
after so many breathless moments
spent in the arms of other men
and casual whispers of passion
that echo from their distant ears
our scarred hearts recall too much of love
too much of past pain and, worse yet, past joy
our love knows it is only here and now
never reaching always and forevermore.
But, oh, how I could have loved you
in another world, one that never was.