Love Faux Pas
The beauty of love is when it is felt by two.
I started tracking down the history
of “whose” fault. Being human, to fault is ok--
This, persistently, leads me to spy
the naked lady, on shoreline rocks,
displaying her rarity with a pink smile.
I desire to achieve the secret
of the infidels. Many times,
I was teased to go for it,
to see and live my dream,
to strive for something pleasant.
Yet, the mystified blue bell, in my patio, stirs
…and sighs; she’s letting me notice her
willingness. Yes, a month from now is winter.
And, my roof will fill with snowflakes
of abundant loneliness, sending me
alone, watching the awesome dancing fire.
Oh, I sense my breath, in silent gasping,
avoid waking the eye of jealousy, but by then
lightning strikes.
What have I done?
My soul trembles. Almost insane I am,
with the madness, what the eyes have seen.
Love hides the infidels, my damn thought.
Finally, here’s where I truly stand: I won’t commit
myself to love, ‘til you’ve loved yourselves, for…
the beauty of love is when it is felt by two.
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
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