and I don’t think it’s

all that fair

when you cry about

your life’s

injustices

on my shoulder

expecting my

tenderness

and my

empathy – while

knowing,

always knowing,

of this

land-mine

love

that is sure

to drag

my heart

deeply through

your warzone

because you

still love

her.

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He’s been coming around here for awhile now, almost so often that should a day pass during which his towering frame happens to not cross my threshold, I’m left, in a way, out of sorts. He’s not mine, or at least, not yet – but that’s no way to think about things like that.

The natural pout of his lips has a tendency to infiltrate significantly more pressing thought processes, knocking the mind off-course with fanciful gale-force winds and a sly smile that speaks of nothing in particular but conveys everything, altogether.

I brace for the impact, while concurrently dangling bare feet from open doorways, manipulating his current in delicate ways before falling turns to landing.

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So I had this dream

where I ran around inside your mind

and you were there

with me

showing me the sights

and spinning yarns

of your happier, shinier

times

and we laughed

uncontrollably at

that time when

you liked her so

much it made

you sick

in front of

everyone

and I ran off

into your darker

corners

and though you couldn’t

find me

you didn’t look

instead, you sat

in the

middle

of your brain

secretly hoping

I’d be back.

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More than the simple matter of fabled doomed curiosity, this muse-like intrinsic prowess is destined to keep a soul at arm’s length.

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inner-child

temper tantrum

at the

inner-sage

who told me so

the violent

hurling of

logic and

common-sense

objects

in defiance

of acumen

this incongruity

carries on.

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and though they flowed

awkwardly

from his tense, nervous lips

his words fell

gracefully

to the floor and swirled all

together, forming a variety of

kaleidoscopic and

deliquescent

puddles

which I instinctively

swept away.

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strange gullet
sensation
burning
fluttering
easily distracts
hijacking the mind
and possessing
the heart.

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It’s the ones like us they expect to be the winners; the front-runners bearing down on the prize; but usually and ultimately we are run off-course out of sight just before the finish line

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this

proximity

(approximately)

in certain ways

resembles

fruitless

schoolyard

follies

of the

heart.

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