on the shine i've taken that won't dull down.

The characters in this poem are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.*

Special person,
if I were you I'd pay no attention
to admonitions from me... 
                                              ...To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall
into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief. 
-Anne Sexton

 

dismissal, devotion.

each blue eye

on the same bright face

nulls the space that lays

numbed by her candor which

echoes- rings out - in ardor, in ardor, in ardor

ebullience. 'til an ending.

no one knows that i will

never match the rhythm of her heartbeat. with

one pound and three-quarters of premature chagrin i

expect the question; maudlin, mirrored: 

do i? i think i do

 

for her smile's the same at six as it was at two,

her hair shimmers its blonde good morning.

we stroll for one night onto hard-pressed streets,

and onto my pages she comes pouring.

the gentlest glance turns to the softest blush

and i'm soaring...

          i'm soaring...

                     i'm soaring

*except, of course, if i'm referring directly to You. which i am.