When I think of love it makes me stand and fight.
When I think of love it makes me lose sleep at night.
It is the word that will make you or break you.
Love is the word that will make you bleed through.

But love is more than just a word.
It is the most profound expression.
It isn't something that can just be heard.
It is God's way of making a connection.

But people use it to get what they want.
And for that purpose it makes my heart haunt.
But the older you get it has more understanding.
And it comes more natural and less demanding.

However don't get me started I may talk all night.
Until I wear this word out and it's out of sight.
Before I get too deep I will sleep on it.
And when the time comes I will steep on it.

Sure, that I was done,
I had given up all hope,
I heard the **** crow
And the fat girl cleared her throat,
That pain in my chest,
was not gonna stop,
I was checking out,
The kitchen was too hot,
At last I was alone,
All my friends were gone,
Closing my eyes,
I tried to sing along,
If only I had prayed,
Or maybe exercised,
I could be spared,
Instead….I am surprised,
If only I had listened to the things my father said,
If I was not careless,
or bumped my ******* head,
if I was more wise,
I would have used a net,
Instead I am a victim of the butterfly effect
©B L Costello 2018

She always said, “I love you”
And I believe she did,
She had the kind of honesty you only see in kids.
Perhaps a little simple,
More than just naïve,
But she was so devoted,
She was never mean,
Happy just to please,
She accepted what she lacked,
In a storm, she would give the shirt right off her back
and now we will remember
She’s gone a few hours,
We think about her family….and where to send the flowers?

Details lost,
No prints mentioned,
But sin is judged by the intention,
So maybe his spirit will repent,
It could have been an accident,
A suicide,
A cry for help,
Maybe it was someone else……
Too long ago,
Too much to tell,
The only witness,
The Chelsea hotel,
A single room,
Not too fancy,
Good enough for Sid and Nancy
©B L Costello 2019

Beautiful child
Sad and true,
I cannot write a poem about you,
Inspired,
I don’t know where to begin,
A victim your suffering makes me cringe,
Angry,
I want to tell the world,
How she hurt that little girl,
But movies and books recorded her fate,
For her there was no escape,
This world is cruel and so obscene,
Neighbors “thought they heard a scream”,
Her torture and hell are finally done,
Why didn’t they tell anyone?
Now, I am tortured,
Haunted and disturbed,
They should have told someone
What they heard.
©B L Costello 2019