Matters of Opinion

I must ask you,

What truly matters to you,

Is it what matters to me?

Is it that wonderful sea,

A sea of love?

Or is it merely your midsummer tea…?

Or is it misery?

That horrible tingling sensation,

Like water dripping down one’s back.

And the guilt,

Oh the pain,

Only there to complete such a heavy stack.

Oh it does hurt me,

And so do you.

But there is of course more to things than are at first seen.

Because only until you and I part,

Will we both notice those bolts through our heart,

Those woeful tidings of darkest green,

Oh sweet, delightful, brilliant and serene…

So, as I do,

Now we shall go, depart, begone.

It is only for what matters, For what is best.

That we both lay our obscene thoughts,

These opinions of ours to rest.

Before they can hurt us anymore,

Those other lives, waiting,

Across the threshold and beyond our door…

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