The Synapse

When I think about you I think it’s all been said before The words rang true But what were they for? You were a small disappointment Careless hand on the thigh Sweet inferred words That were never implied Who could frame the fearful asymmetry Between lust and love? Is God the synapse or the thought Caught between what you want and what you bought? Are you the final thread That binds the world to me? Baby is that all you want to be? The end of love is A terraced grief that’s like a drip down a mountain That fills an ocean I’ll carry you over the water, you grow heavier With every step Until you drag me down as sure as Ophelia’s dress Did you grant me existence When a random thought of me Shot through your mind Like a wasp right through a web? You clothed me in life But my garment strangles me Like Desdemona struggling with fortune And seeking her lover’s eyes Is a mayfly tenure the best that you can offer me? You’re so wisely absent, from past and future But to me you’re nothing but a suture To prevent their blending And yet my heart seems to be rending now The longer I sit in my lonely room Honey you’re the only lover that I believe in The end of love is A guarantee that no will ever look Away from me Though I dance with the dolls No one else comes close To how, to how How you love me The end of love is A deus ex machina But ain’t that better Than a deus So much more humane So much more remains After the play is over The end of love The end of love The end of love