Tying off the Past

There's a pocketless perfection in the way things always were
When the minutes change to seasons and your memory's a whirr
Even when you don't know why you know the how and when
And your actions turn to reasons when you think of what has been.
Everything's confused, concise 
An interlocking chain
With every time you threw the dice
Colored by whatever came--

a four a six or maybe three
I remember all these chances as you wish to cherish me
and when it came up snake eyes then you wish I'd never rolled
as if you could have stopped the dice
as if you had control.

There's a blemishing protection in the way things should have been
When you bring it to the present and replace the now with then
And even when you realize why the past is as it is
You try to rewrite history with apologies and grins
Everything's "I didn't know"
And "can we start again?"
When the bitter truth is you fucked up
And I have nothing to defend.

a five an eight or maybe ten
I rolled the dice when I said yes but love came to an end.

~Penden, Aug 24, 2003