Element of Truth

I felt the far, hollow
useless words
you used to try drawing me back
to the old things we were together.

The once full magic
does not work again
and  I say, its very nectar
is dried and sere,

How can I tell you,
ever hope to say,
the black hooded axeman,
the falling trap,
the poisoned cup
all will work a killing touch.

So equally will repetition again
of too many smiles with
too familiar words, identical kisses,
and so on and so on.

But can I ever bravely say
it outright to your perfect face, 
to watch it fall
and drift into teary desolation
over something
which can never be healed again.

So I smoke my cigarette
and explain again
that other futures
call us both
and our crossed paths
must curve away
as all the far roads
are known to do.