London Poem: Day 162

26 January

Memory fails in such a way
To soften truth as it bends
Towards us calmly.
Everything is beautiful,
And perfection is easily
Defined by you, but how
Do I see it all unfold?
Though looking back what
Occurs now slips past and
That beauty is distorted
By what I saw at first glance,
And wish to keep intact.
Youth tastes sweet by the sound
Wrapped in innocence, and
Aspirations, but if sight was sure
I would close my eyes to it,
Blink and let it slip away
Because what was, is just that:
A life unobtainable, no matter
How far you reach.

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In flux

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