Image result for blue eyes black eyes abstract painting

How will my memory remember me?

Will it travel back to the desperate years

When I cried for you those hesitant tears,

Since, as a man, a few tears were enough,

When I loved, but didn’t quite love enough

Your face which penetrated my eyes

With youth and blonde hair the best disguise,

And that disguise even now enough

To make me fall madly in love?

My memory would have the new

Fill it up, but would rely heavily on you.

It would exchange blue eyes for black

As long as love, felt then, comes back,

When I glimpsed your blue eyes

In youthful, dim surmise.

Memory tells me your image is dead,

Like a sound sounding only in my head,

But still you are beautiful as you look down

Into life, stretched out in a long frown.

I pursued, with recklessness, romance,

Too eager, too untutored, to dance.

I drowned my fiery desire in wine

Which led to nothing, when I was done.

Any love I got was by pure chance.

I found nothing, though I ranged

In and out of haunts, to seek one

To make me happy. You changed

Into many, and my memory of many

Is almost enough to make this claim:

I loved enough, though not in your name.

I loved as my memory told me to love;

From the very beginning, you were enough,

Though we did not love, and with a sigh,

Memory plays sadly and vainly in my eye.

I still look, and still see

The merest mist surrounding me.



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