Before me ripples fade away, unfinished quotes that never seem

to make much sense but now’s no time to count for counting’s sake

I gasp for air, find only peace that dances like the afterglow

of some great romantic novel that sold too many copies

My mind will only sanction things deemed essential to the present

so how these thoughts got in there I don’t know

This water’s cold

Melodrama is what we choose when stillness forces eager minds

to keep alive the parts that make us worthy to ourselves

I saw the hook, I smelt the bait but wasn’t paying quite enough

attention to the smaller words that speak of larger things

And dancing with the afterglow he whispered softly in my ear

and told me of what had mattered and what had really not

This water’s cold

So I concede at this late stage that I should have swum the other way

but I can’t remember why I had to make a choice at all

What would I do if one more chance was eloquently granted by a fairy with uncombed hair and a pair of stone-washed jeans?

Amused by the pathetic whines of men who spend their lives in hate

I must appear an almost worthy cause

She does not come