My mate and I left lovers

My mate and I left lovers
and hit the road.

On mountaintops we worked it out.
We marched back home
ready to love our girls.

We dropped our bags and told them we'd commit.

They dropped their eyes and turned away

and said they needed space.

Funny, really; that'd always been my line.

It made sense.
The roles must switch.
Love has a left and a right
but little else.

But oh how we dance:
she in, me out,
me in, she out,
around and around the pillar of love
that ceases to exist
once we take our eyes off our lover
and onto the pillar of love.

We amble by back roads
searching for the corpse of god,
flail down the rabbit holes,
try instructions
but plunge through darkness

and that's why we love each other

for we can't completely love each other
the way we'd like to think we can
- on this we all relate
on levels more unconscious.
We'd weep out storms
if we knew the depths of them.

Who, truly, could bear the task of being loved that hard?

So we pull away;
so the dance.
But I know she tried.
I tried too.

My mate and I came home
and the girls - well - they gave us
just what we deserved.
But it's just the dance.
Perhaps it's what we'd hoped for
all along.