if it were not for the memory of your

blue eyes floating over mine in the semi darkness of

that room halfway between londontown and basingstoke
the woking junction of desire
if it were not the impress of your freckled hand
at my throat, tracing the pulse of my
bloodbeat
the jagged road that led us
there to
the millionth second of our
honeymoon,elongated by
absences and want
of illicit unknowing unrelenting
unforeseen
unspeakable
undo-able
unreachable
bliss
and pain
and joy
and
regrettable
unending
its unending and i remember
your breath on my lips
like a song that
i forgot to write the
words to
if not for this, would i believe
still
after all this
time
love was
and is
possible?