Anti-Climatic.

We began together

on the same page

with an introduction and

than a couplet that began.

an epic romance.

others tried to edit or 

snip away at our faith

in each other but 

the first chapter

held lovely memories,

pastoral settings

and long comversation 

to stir both of our imaginations

to continue the saga

Our past a mere prologue

which seemed to foreshadow

a manuscript to come

filled with great passion

in the classic theme

of you and me

against all odds.

But eventually we fell

out of sync

and I can't even begin

to know where I

closed the last chapter

and left your feelings unread.

That place where you put

a book-marker of tears

as the inl of all we knew bled

and we became unbound

Now I am alone

delivering my 

grief filled soliloquy

with all the fervor I own,

and you still can't see

my point of view through

this final sentence you

have imposed on me.

You are taking things

out of context

and I am becoming

a footnote in your

latest short story.

becoming unused 

and ex-libris

as I watch our

epic romance

turning into a

modern tragedy

with nothing to

look forward to

but an anti-climax.

Just another

dummy copy

with nothing left

to say inside

blank pages

stark white

were love once danced

in the press of two as one.