Too Late To Clean a Sullied Slate
Crazy
Fate mocks People
Fuzzy
How we become a couple
In business, in marriage
Make commitments
To nurture the carriage
Teeming with developments
Cultivated into a caring art
When from the bottom of our hearts we feel love
So smart
We float and fly above wings of the dove
Fate flies in our face
To dangle a carrot
Into hearts so enamoured on the surface they displace
Caution and in a crazy motion parrot
I love you
As if we uttered an eternal verity
When we can’t rescue
Life from love celerity
That rumbles like an avalanche
Breaking through hearts torn into
Every which way in a tranche
Meant for one but consumed by two
Hearts immersed in a race for self destruction
Plotted on dotted lines
Under instruction
From legal tomes whose spines
Weary of complaints and recriminations desensitize
Mouths that blurt vows we seldom keep
Which we satirize and dehumanize
When a few months or years down the line, eyes weep
Upon realizing a mistake
Sneaks into the dreams thought so priceless
With relatives’ reputations at stake
Grows so tasteless
Imperatives dictate we take tough decisions
Fed on wisdom
That can no longer condone incisions and excisions
In a faulty kingdom
Whose future no longer certain
Deserves a conversation with fate
To ascertain, maintain and retain
Sanity although it seems too late to clean a sullied slate.
Copyright © John Sensele | Year Posted 2018
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