a mutual attraction is needed
for the satisfaction
of your needs and wants
as the adult version of an intelligent child.
nail polish, lipstick and dresses
in use as she impresses her wisdom
on your ever growing brain,
and you wonder how you got to be so lucky.
feelings can arise from the ashes;
a prize for the lesser-known masses,
mutually felt but left open
to the interpretation of the viewer.
reasons for a mutual understanding
can go unwatched and uninterpreted
and misunderstood by the woman in the corner.
observances go cloudy,
wasted by the passage of a time.
you once wanted the time,
meeting the eyes of the tall, dark, and handsome
only to be given your comeuppance
in the form of the stranger
timidly laughing into the salad plates of another time,
forced to be faced with a man she should love.
someone once trusted can be easily thrusted
into realms of uncertainty.
lost are the days of inconsequential mistakes
and taken opportunities to surprise
when jealousy and mistrust enter the room.
work to rebuild
takes time we don't have
so living a lie is preferred in the current life view.
trust is the devil
born with and then taken to the grave
if not carefully lost along the way
and never found in a moment of passion.
trust can be toxic
so she grips it ever tighter
in an effort to hold her dignity once again
in the palm of her grey sweat-stained hands.
trusting her lightly isn't his turn of phrase
but a phase he enters into knowingly
and with forethought of emotion.
passion kills trust easily
so withholding intimate moments
becomes her single passion
and they enter into a realm of unease
as the passion and truth intersect.
love is for fools.
the weak and meek and full-hearted
to tear down the walls and inhibitions
and rip out the heart, still beating.
fools who want with an unending hunger
the feeling of warmth given wholly by mothers
who love unconditionally,
she sits in wait
at the bottom of the stairs.
waiting to strangle with a kiss on his lips
and a promise of tomorrow's sun.
poison mixed into the drink of a king
as he sits on his throne made of feeling
and she waits to move on to a lover,
cold within her red polish.
nothing can stop it.
the eventual death
of a lover denied