The Heart’s Labyrinth

near apartment

Last night I dreamt
of the islands of forgotten loves
half Venice half Morocco
I followed and ran
through labyrinthine streets
always losing glimpses caught
of those I’d left behind in life
whose feelings I hadn’t guessed
or whose words had held significance
I’d moved too fast to understand
sometimes my chase
would end in an empty cul-de-sac
or a locked door
impossible steps downwards
leading out under the sea
which glittered high on the horizon
ever-present awash with longing
but sadder still were the conversations
with the friends I did re-find
always standing alone
in some shop or square
un-aged, unchanged since
the day I left them and yet
strangely dead our
empty words petered out
a phrase half-said, mumbled
misunderstood, eyes becoming
glazed and distant, disinterested
and I would turn bereft again
back to the endless alleyways
stalked by immeasurable loss
until beyond it all
confronting me at the final quayside
I saw a thousand other islands stretched
into the distance, unreachable
in each of which I knew
that a version of me
would be lost and searched for
by somebody else
the feeling washing
into me like the waves:
that hurt can never be undone
that none of us can ever truly
find each other.

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This entry was posted in Architecture, Art, History, Photography, Poetry, Psychology, Travel, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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