the subtle difference
between
holding a hand
and
chaining a soul
between
burying a self
and
heading from the dead things piled up behind you
leaning
(isn't love)
a transaction
integrity for security
(isn't love either)
kisses are not contracts
presents are not promises
defeat comes into the bar —
—familiar squabbles dizz out the bartender
drunk—young love
burning down onto the dance floor
holding on tightly to that known
O' Captain, my Captain!
treacherous are the roads of the morrow
—its grounds, too unstable for plans
futures have a tendency of falling flat—.
a dulcy dandy melody
that of feet walking past—.
i endure
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child
i learn
to take in warm loving arms
my sunken ship
back to shore—