And when the time dwindles,
and that same body stumbles,
your world all around you
may not or may crumble.
A love-keeper's journal,
written with lust
is not a love journal at all,
bound by false trust.
But no trust
doesn't mean lies.
Maybe misunderstanding
or a misread eye.
Birthed into routine
and taught by repetition.
Opened up hearts
with new intuition.
Raised in a world
where everything is expected,
and anything different
is highly disrespected.
How much is enough?
Whether gentle or rough,
when your time is spent
and you're done being tough.
Who will spend your time?
Whether negative or right,
in the future or past,
it will be in your sight.
But can one ever-changing soul
just settle down?
Does one choose a favorite song,
and ignore all other sounds?
You may never be different,
but may never be the same,
and to find one person
with one certain name,
Would you be content,
never turn away?
Is it so wrong to wonder?
We swing and we sway.
From one love to another,
from hours to days,
I linger indifferent,
to so many things.
Love is love is love,
and we share it aloft.
Is three such a crowd,
in a bed that's so soft?
From partner to parody,
repeat, and repeat,
we go from one to another,
retreat, and retreat.
Back to square one,
alone all along,
but in the months to come,
love like a song.
Some are sick of duets,
and some like to stand alone,
and some like to see many,
and some like to see clones.
A triangle of fun,
an octagon of plays;
A partnership hole,
with so many days.
You lust what you must,
and you think what you might.
You go with your trust,
and you follow your light.
A variety of comfort,
spread across the globe,
with people being human
and that's how it goes.
Some have no idea,
and live inside the box.
Some see the sticky tape
but would rather see not.