We always told ourselves we’d be different, <br />you and I. <br />We always told ourselves that we <br />would go through life together, <br />that we would never change. <br /> <br />I can still see her hair, <br />a cascade of molten gold, showering over her, <br />as endless as light that falls from the sun. <br />I can still see her smile, <br />a perfect crescent moon, <br />one that I could reach. <br /> <br />I wonder if she remembers those days, <br />our hands clasped, lightly, yet so heavy. <br />As if our bound feelings were trying to escape from us, <br />to take us away, to nowhere, but together. <br />But we were young, and we didn’t run, <br />so we just held hands, holding our heavy hearts together. <br /> <br />I still think of those times, those signs, <br />when her golden hair rusted to bronze, to iron. <br />When her crescent lips was eclipsed, <br />by a cracked crooked mask. <br />We both hid with false faces, <br />we wore what we wanted to see. <br /> <br />If I had one more chance, <br />I would go back and tear away those faces. <br />So I could hold the hand of a stranger, <br />instead of seeing ours fumble and fall. <br />But we kept wearing our masks, <br />and we never had time to meet again. <br /> <br />We always knew we were different, <br />you and I. <br />We always told each other lies <br />so we could pretend we’re still us, <br />but in the end we couldn’t accept change.<br /><br />Vincent Wong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/changing-hands/
