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Poetry
in motion happens all the time! Why did I never notice? - but that's
just like me, can never see the forest for the trees. You just have
to know it is there, to seek it out - every minute is a potential song
lyric, a flower - dead or alive, who cares, it all counts in the whole
expanse of things - if I died tomorrow it would be vital. That is why
the end is more important than the beginning. It is the aftertaste,
the final speaker, the 'amen' that always echoes in the mind for months
after... waterbaby, caesarean, it all fades to black really - who cares
if you were fat? Not me, the criteria are all gradually picked off one
by one - eventually not even your ugly toes have an effect on me, just
the fact that I LOVED YOU is left whispering against your cold cheek
and that I have LOST you forever, I can reach and cry and break but
nobody will take any notice because I missed the boat, the dinghy, the
whole shebang was never even given a fleeting GLANCE because I just
thought... what a weak answer... I just thought that that stuff was
for deathbeds, you know it's coming so you can say anything, the final
breath is so romantic. But you didn't work it that way did you God?
No no, you came like a thief in the night and stole something so dear
without even a hint, a chance to say what I meant and not... what you
just say, in the normal scheme of things. He died in poetry, he died
among flowers, but it is no easier on me - he's still gone isn't he?
So even, even the last line of this poem didn't change anything in the
end, and what an end
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