Excitedly I say once,
"if love was a substance,
if only more than
some sort of word, more concrete
if only"

rather than heard
in song made wispy or absurd
instead bold in your face apparent

a freakshow, cirque du taste
such theatrics (once) those lips
the film noir of your thrilling face.

Undeniable you
unabashed like a growth
to the left
a mole on your kind skin
red lipstick puckering miss Monroe
eyes that ooze dreamy

How I always noticed you (once)
saying "Ooh look here, this is love"
pointing to that dot
but i know love is more than
a tiny tiny blemish (Marilyn's coy mole)

once a beauty marked me
with what was quick draw and newly raw
touch with much whirling
such were we
openly exposed to

Love : Effulgent

All things of wealth imbue
matters less now
than the absolute truth

golden glow not many know
what all we felt
suns, dawns, and throne

So wretchedly loudly
made so obvious / where we partook
if briefly donning heaven in our looks

hold on
my arms - keep hold
i say to what was once

love now as heavy as you're letting go

caustic as your doubts
as I remember saying
"look here -- once, this was love"
now just a gesture
where stands my shadow

as I regret
not informing you : "should of kept your eyes open
during the fall
should of kept honest is all..."

If only love to you
was of some real substance

beyond misty hours or
something like
the prose of rain to heartache
empty like open doorways of us before

because

once is now
no more.