No Title

For how long
can we
trapeze this love?
Before falling
     f
       a
            l l
               i
                   n
                           g
with I love you’s
and titles.
We run from
those words,
playing hide
and go seek
For surely
those words
lead to
   I don’t love you
             any
                 more.

For how long
can we babystep
this desire?
Knowing All-grown Up
desire is
dumb.

For how long
can you go
without
calling me Yours?
For how long
can I?

One thought on “No Title

  1. I sure enjoy the challenge of commenting on your poetry. I could write two pages on this one. Speaking from what must be one of the most foolish hearts ever conceived of by nature or nature’s God I won’t recognize the concept of “I don’t love you anymore.” I would rather weep my heart out every day for the fickleness of this world than let the world take my joy or my pain. Those belong to Someone else Who paid the price in full for them. That line ” All-grown Up” is pretty neat. It seems to me it can float around between desire, knowledge, and the knower, I like that in a poem. And as for those questions at the end I quote other poets. ” Of all the words ever penned, the saddest are these: it might of been.” That’s Whittier and this is Burns. ” I will love thee still my dear till all the seas run dry. Till all the seas run dry and the rocks melt with the sun, I will love thee still my dear while the sands of life do run.” Our desires are like nets cast into the future, or in my case, a shovel driven into the mud. I hope I never get so ” All-grown Up ” I lay my shovel down. Thank you Ms. Van Dusen, have a good week.

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