From This Moment On

We are here now, until the sun goes out;
From this moment on, there will be silence,
Broken only by your request.

I have no misconceptions about this…
Whatever this is, this relationship
That lasts long after words.

Try as I might to fix things,
All the power lies with you
And some vague promises I made.

I do not think you will listen
If I call to fix what broke between us
As our lives pulled in opposite directions.

Heart strings were strained, attempting in vain
To hold the world together,
Until we no longer were.

From this moment on, there is no us;
There are no words to speak,
And no voices to hear.

All this time waiting for some answer
As to what went wrong
Is wasted energy, greatly needed

To survive for the sake of silence.
Someone has to remember us,
Everything we stood for,

Everything we tried to be and failed,
Everything we said and did and dreamed,
And promises made from this moment on.

When the sun goes out, I’ll stop writing.
That’ll be the sign that we’re through,
That quiet words will not reach your ears.

From this moment on, I work to save
A thousand memories of us,
And many more just yours.

Someone has to remember why we laughed
And why we cried and everything
That was right and wrong.

We are a history of destruction
Of something veering towards inevitable perfection,
A memory only, from this moment on.

All our dreams and desires and aspirations
Are for the record books and rubbish bins,
Piled up wasted communal ideas.

Every heartbeat that thumped too quickly,
Every breath that came too sharply,
Every disillusioned idea in my head,

Every moment of burning anger and clenched fists,
Every drink to calm the soul and blur the mind,
Every distraction you chose to face,

Every phone call in the middle of the night,
Every lunch and tea and coffee,
Every goodbye and every false promise,

Every attempt to make things right,
Every attempt to make it all go away,
Every day we didn’t talk,

And every day we said a few words,
Belong to some strange machination
That stores dead ideas,

Recycling them for later use
As we come to our senses,
Too late from this moment on.


About Paul Carroll

Paul Carroll is a writer, born, raised and still living in Dublin. By day he's a student and bookseller, by night he writes fiction and uses social media.
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