Brenda Warman


Lover Not Friend

Your grasp was immediate, not physical, not conscious,
My heart sighed,
Your beauty so profound, so captivating,
Awash in the luminous yellow street light,
To have you for my own was my one wish.

Time has its way of changing what was seen,
A memory, lackluster, empty of the liveliness it once cultivated.
I see you, but it is not you, not entirely,

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