There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to ****** our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’

Because now I'm confused.
Are these subtle hints?
or works of fiction;
created by my own mind,
to fool myself into thinking
I'd ever have a chance with you?

The television announcer sprays
rapid-fire syllables
with voice booming sells
the unneeded  to the unsuspecting
while wearing a smile
which surely would break
an honest face.

Everything is spewing
Out of you like frothy
Beer
Bearing nothing
And sparing taste

Fermenting and brewing
Through all of these
Years
Yearning insignificance
And lacking grace

My mother once told me
                        "Never run from your problems!"
but here I am
escaped to a smaller town
and it seems all
my problems
have left me alone.