They Fled, We Remained Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

They left
In trains
Under the rain
Or over
The terrain

They were
Thieves with
Nimble hands
They left
And took
Away what
Was left of me,
Left of you

In the barren
Tavern I sat
Down and wept -
Over my
Raging bottle
Of whiskey
And the stench
Of rue and
Demise.

Over your
Pale escritoire
You defeat
The purpose
Of the laments -
You are a shadow
As the waves
Close in;
You are the
Troubled,
Fumbling
Cataclysm.

They left.
You said.
A fastidious
Tear sprinted
Across your
Cheeks.

They left.
I said.
They fled
With our
Shards.
Is this
How it works?

But I do
Know one thing
And that is
How the clocks
Steal everything
From us;
This unfathomable
Strain fractures
All of me.

I cringed,
You evaded
The strangest
Affairs
Of the seas
And as I ran:
A slow retreat.

And you ran
As well:
Away from defeat,

We collided
And things
Were anew
And utmost true

In here,
They don't mean
Anything.
Only we,
Do.