Beloved.

Beloved.

It's strange after all these years
to find myself thinking about you
It began about a month before I met you
in the Hotel lounge after the funeral

We stood in the middle of the room
making polite small talk
and the whole world receding around us

It was in your eyes
it was written all over your face
the spark the chemistry the attraction
whatever it is named
or indefinable without a name
that makes a man and a woman
want each other

It was you all along
it was you I've been drifting from
you were the one
My Dearly Beloved
and I never knew until this moment of clarity
thirty seconds watching thirty years
go down the Swanee

If I could go back
I would not walk across that bridge
I would not leave you standing there
so distraught and so alone
But I can't go back
and we can't go forward
there is nothing for us
there can be nothing between us
we met too soon and now too late
it's all perfectly fucked up

Only this mutual comprehension
of what could have been
can perhaps be counted as something
And all I'm left feeling
is that I'm walking
away from you again.