the softly  indecisive "sense" that
seamlessly... enters

our  safely inconclusive vision-
of-the-world

the little lost lovers we nurture
that come and go
come and go

and leave us with a a slight tinge
of guilt we call ......sadness

over and over
till we bore ourselves into a stupor
and safely rot away
til death brings us back to our true
sensibilities

(but it is too late!
too late!)

so easily doomed!
we foul ourselves completely

so knowingly catering
to the unknown fears we have

afraid of the love
that is vulnerability

afraid of feeling
anything at all