| Written: OCT 8, 2003 |
Kant spoke as if
From mine own Heart.
Every woman that takes
A piece of my love is overblown.
Every subtle gesture
Becomes a momentous occasion.
All their likes and life,
An extensive magnitude.
Lost one becomes,
Until the fiction runs on.
Loves lost, regained, thrown away;
Washing down the river,
Away from me,
Or I away from them…
