i was wrong
and that's ok
i will live to see another day
i will not, however
be quite the same
transformed by the loss of you
and all of the shame

that swells and floods
comes crashing, like waves
that taunt and haunt
this path for me, paved

a "you" focused soul,
so alive in the giving
this, the only way
i understand, called real living

yet brutality strikes
time and again
what i think that is real
all in my head, heart, a sin

it seems that i, just don't get it
give in
most everyone much happier
in focus, first and last, just on them

what they want and need
what they can gain from "the take"
in receive
and when they are done
it's on me, left alone
to solve then, the puzzle
what is wrong with me,
the love lost, no home

inside of me
to feel strong, safe, secure
there once was a time
i thought i was sure

that trust was a gift
that most would not betray
so whore-i-fied
to learn here, this all just a play

of words and emotions
rarely real, beyond the moment
and at the end of the day
all you are, you must own it

every perception, misplaced
every time you fell, from another's
good grace
every time you sold your soul
for the fleeting warmth, an embrace
that was forgotten, the moment
pre-planned, gone, left, no trace

of remembrance
or acknowledgement
it takes two, a bond
that lasts either a lifetime
or for the all too common
"didn't mean much, so then
not very long"...

someday
to die
in the arms, another
a lover, compassionate
strong

who sees, understands
for some of us
the path is tumultuous, long

for the lasting of love, pure
there is no hand, place, cure

amongst the "care less"
want, wealth
and
"the never can quite trust yourself"

to ever know, when its safe
less, a land of ruin and rape
to be naked, vulnerable
"mask off" and sure

for the dreams, visions
"belong to you", beautiful
what some of us
will put ourselves through

endure.


bowen hart roselli
26 may 2020
ringwald love