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Jun 2019
Usually I just shy away
In all its gut wrenching circumstances
Why would I let it hurt me
The way the soul feels when on the mend
The finality of it all

So much hope in this world,
Like love in the summer
Warm and comfortable
The constant ringing in my ears
The glow on my face
That desperate feeling
All giddy and nervous
and absent minded

Don’t I
have the power to explain
what I’m going through
I may learn from my own obvious mistakes
Maybe so

But don’t I
control when
and where
Love exists
And if it does
Don’t I
Know the outcome exists
In ways that hurt the soul
So profoundly

Don’t I control how and why
Leaving me lost
Of hope
Keeping me dragging
And defeated
shall I say
Like death
And loss

Don’t I
Get to decide
If the option is there
allowing to take part in the end

you never know
If it – and by it- I mean love
Dramatic and incurable
Astounding and immeasurable
To the heart
May never come around again.

Summer, 2019
Peter Piccolomini
Written by
Peter Piccolomini  Montclair, New Jersey
(Montclair, New Jersey)   
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