Passion can be a somewhat lustful animal.
When it feeds continuously, it will . . . eventually
tire of the type of sustenance for which it used to yearn.
Its constant engorgement consumes the very longing
for what once had spurred it on,
for romantic passion can only subsist mainly on fresh flesh
and it inevitably ends.
If romantic passion is wise,
it will reinvent itself, evolving into a deeper breed of love -
something more trusting, comfortable, and true.
Sadly, romantic passion is often mistaken
for the very thing which it needs so badly to change into,
thus ending in disillusionment and a craving something new.
Happily, however, the creature passion can rekindle the enthusiasm
for its old diet – though not ever as frequently as it had in the past.
There is a different passion - a lascivious obsessive beast
which, when deprived of what it longs for
or denied control of what it thinks it owns,
will stifle or stalk its prey, and kill any chance
for real love to ever begin at all.
Rejection Dejection Connection
Rejection
So common to creation
this forced engorgement
signaling neon lit liquor stores
caressing the parched heart of acceptance
combustible fuel rails through veins
mercy begged
inhumanity relived…
again
Dejection
Diner eggs
hours old coffee
starch clad plumpness
white as snow
fills cup after cup
for me
for me
Connection
Outside
my eyes peer back in
a pastiche of winter night innocence
sitting now where once I sat
frosted windows
portray the anticipation I once embraced
stick figure smiley-faces
drawn by tiny hands yet to know
smiles turn downward
when coldness of heart freezes hope
Still he draws
Still I walk
First grin of the day forming
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