How life passed me by

Life passed me by in a million ways.


And the ways it passed me by

are the million ways

both your loves did ignore me:

the million ways patterns repeated, and

stabbed me like cauldrons of volcanic

liquids, sputtering and suppurating on gas fires galore,

over so many years and yores of moments past that

as they rest in passionate embrace, now cold to

the touch of memory mine – memory yours I no

longer know – I can only go

on what I still recall: and I am fatally

wounded; unable to love again.


For the sin of being unable to choose rightly first, yous

chose to make a choice of me last

like ultimate disgrace and repenting at


lying realities: that even the bravery I have fought to show

goes nowhere, anywhere, any more, now.


And life passed me by in a million ways.


And the choices I must live with and the effort I must

make, to take onboard the consequences

of never having loved in a way I would have wanted,

is more than I can even announce: I have lost

the game you chose to engage: I have lost the duel

as fuel to my fears: I have lost all desire, even, any more,

to battle forwards any more.


And that, precisely that, is how life passed me by in a million

places and ways.


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