Not quite on Raglan Road.

Although I didn’t know at first,
It was an ended thing.

I would say, through no fault of my own
But I thought she

Was something she was not.
Was someone she was not.

So she hurt me.
And I hurt myself.
And in the end I was hurt.

Listening to the sorry sigh of wind, I think.
Knowing all of this
Am I any better off?

9 comments

  1. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    i wish i knew exactly what you mean by this. i wish i could have you explain it to me.

  2. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    does the title have anything to do with the kavanagh poem?

  3. zaphodfreek · September 20, 2006

    Yes. It does.
    Shrewd.

  4. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    personally, i am sorry that i didn’t fit your image of me. whether it be a good image or bad image i am to you, sorry for your grief. unfortunately, i can’t help you in all of this. i think for right now you should try and forget me and then maybe one day we will meet again and it will be for a longer time and different. and don’t feel sad with this message. just smile and be cheerful because its your birthday!

  5. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    things happen for a reason.

  6. zaphodfreek · September 20, 2006

    don’t worry Sarah.
    it’s not meant to be you.
    you’d never intentionally hurt me.
    that I know, at least.

  7. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    well good that makes me happy a bit.
    cos i’m not made out of clay.
    if you understand what i mean.

  8. chokingspirits · September 20, 2006

    On a quiet street where old ghosts meet,
    I see her walking now away from me,
    So hurriedly. My reason must allow,
    For I have wooed, not as I should
    A creature made of clay.
    When the angel woos the clay, he’ll lose
    His wings at the dawn of the day.

  9. zaphodfreek · September 20, 2006

    I understood.

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