Au Revoir

Sometimes, 

We do have a choice -

How we want to see things.

Sometimes, 

We don't. 

And in between things get ruffled up 

Bearing marks of fleeting happiness

And overarching sense of guilt.

Maybe it was better that way 

We used to be -

Untreated of desire

Derelict of touch - human touch.

But we can't know fate

Neither can we control it.

Otherwise - I wouldn’t be 

Writing my notes and burning 

A Byronic hero into DUST.