Hidden Strings

Two lines in

and there’s already

too much cliché in this poem.

It reeks of artificiality

as if real words

could never describe

the how

of how I feel.


Try as I might

particular facts and

figures, escape me

grasping at instances

that were surely there

one time or another.


However solid

our love is fleeting

I cannot lay hold of it

for the mutability of time

and the growth


of our continued nuptials

making these brief

glimpses into the past

but mere parlor tricks.


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