Casual Tones

In my moments of reflection
I think of what I felt for you,
one time,
and how that emotion is now changed.
Once you were mine. Once you were everything;
my light, my flame, that which comforts in the midst of deepest shame,
the inspiration for notes struck gently in the dark...
and now we talk in casual tones.

The fingers of my heart no longer reach out
to touch your skin,
to graze your cheek,
to cup your face;
they hang now, slack at my sides,
or locked together in folds upon my lap.
We didn’t end in tears, or half-choked voices filled with grief.
We made a new beginning, you and me...
and now we talk in casual tones.

I sat by our fountain for a time,
laughing softly to myself,
plucking wishes from the water and rubbing away the copper covers
that hid the dullness inside both them and me,
while meandering thoughts traced themselves in the dust,
my fingers trailing the words away...

I laughed at my foolishness,
my false pride,
the irony of unused freedom won,
and the gloom my shackles, lost, retain.
So I wept,
and sang,
and hoped for you again;
but I wrap the fingers of my heart around you, still...
amidst our casual tones.

--pour Camille, 1999