something we once had has somehow slipped away

maybe when we were focusing on our wants or fears

it saw a chance to escape

so i think that it may still be here, buried in a flower-pot or under a pile of magazines

but it isn’t hard to recognize, it’s nowhere to be seen

so like two great liners making their way from the port, they keep their distance so they don’t get tangled up

and silently they leave the dock and make their way out to the sea

and little by little what was fun, has now become a ”the one that got away”

i think I’ve said enough in anger and in hurt, so i suppose i will wait for the dust to clear and pray about which way to go