Lost Love

She was a love I lost and regret
Awkward hugs every 12 months
A chance meeting that reminds me
So for a week or so that same chance meeting confines me
In and out of the past
Time traveler
She’s my catalyst, my mind unraveler
Her inner beauty surpassed by none
An outer glow that stuns
The average man.
But me, it stings like vaccinations
As a youngin I thought our brief affair was infatuation
Maybe I’m living in the past
And if I had more to grasp
Than these chance meetings
Then I would see
We were never meant to be
But until then
For a week or so after our chance meetings
I play over and over in my head my initial greeting
And wish she could greet me for the rest of my days.
And until this feeling fades,
I’m here.
Thinking of a love I lost and regret.

Fleeting (Unfinished)

I swore I’d never love again.
Too many battle scars
Lessons learned, too many burns
I’m beginning to think the lesson taught is don’t try it
Is love the forbidden apple?
Don’t bite it.
Have we created a world that touches too many senses
We skip the roses
Only thing that could hurt us are its thorns
Now we don’t have to stop and smell anything
Its in our palms
They stop and sell it all
As much as your rumbling belly can endure
Only thing that could hurt is our soul.
We rally to reduce the carbon footprints in our valleys
But the pollution that needs reducing is the lack of love we’re producing.
And I don’t mean lust.
We skip on love because lust won’t hurt unless you catch feelings.
So it’s no strings attached until we use
Love and other drugs,
And love isn’t a drug, so that’s the problem with the title.
What’s the problem with a title?
The idea of love seems to be a fleeting mystery.
Cheating between the misery.
Finding something more real with the mistress.
She becomes the new lady with the fleeting title.
Rewind. Repeat.
Now the new lady is cutting eyes at the old lady
At the youngest baby's recital.
While the memories of her 2nd grade rendition of Fiddler on the Roof
Turns to her trying to outdo
The fact she got to have two moms and two dads growing up.
Every Holiday, two sets of presents showing up.
The more the merry.
So the more she'll marry.
Rewind. Repeat.

Conduction

Sweet and mild kisses
She likes the softness.
It is far from her old life.
His presence makes the pain fade.
She pictures him when he’s not there.
When days get bad, she beckons him.
Bittersweet, she tries not to be mean,
But the demons break through her calm.
She prays to control it, she needs him.
He knows, and understands.
He thinks he’s enough to make her forget,
Resenting that he’s not.
When he leaves the clock stops.
When he comes it seems to make up the time it lost.
She needs him,
But the demons keep breaking through her calm.
She resents them all.
He resents he can’t pick her up.
She resents the fall.
He resents the fall.
Now he begins to resent the calm.
“You can’t control it,” he says.
“Am I not enough to make you change?”
She replies, “I’m trying, it takes time to release this pain.”
He leaves, and the clock stops.
Returns, but the time moves slower.
She feels his presence no longer calms the way it did.
She grows stronger.
He now feels the demons breaking through his calm.

Things Fall Apart

Things fall apart
In other words, things change
No matter the city or town
The mounds of nouns we accumulate
In these rounds we call life,
Change.
These nouns that make up our life.
Defined as person, place or thing.
The answer to Who? What? Where?
And sometimes, Why?
The questions of life,
Answered by these mounds of nouns we accumulate.
That define us, mold us, make us, break us.
Because things fall apart.
From the Roots.
In other words things change.
As quick as the sun turns to rain,
And back again.
People change.
Places change.
Things change.
As they fall apart.
Not in the literal always.
Our notions, our history, our perceptions
Create a landscape sculpted from the nouns in our lives.
In other words,
Our notions, our history, our perceptions like sculpting knives,
Carving the lenses in which we see our nouns.
So when change comes, our old notions fall apart.
Rescuplting those lenses from which we see the world.
Things fall apart.