He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
Death and bullets resting in his gun
But still frightened by this woman
Standing proud
Whom he could not bully
Nor subdue
Hammer, hammer, hammer
Testimony to the judge
That in all his years
He had never met a woman like her
Who acted like her
No respect
No fear
Of course not you fool
You charged into the camp
Of Boudicea
Come to **** and pillage
And fell beneath her sword
Hammer, hammer, hammer
You can lock her up
But you can never bury fear

These little broken wings, petals almost- reside in the pit of my stomach. Dead perhaps- and with that my heart plumets.
Feather soft, tiny sighs
Dormant little butterflies
But,
When he kissed me
I felt that static surge of electricity,
how could this come to be?
That now everything
Is alive
Inside of me.

The new car smell
The first snow fall of the year
The smell of a new baby
Playing with a new toy
A new relationship
Everything has a honeymoon phase
Things are great
You are so happy and just cannot get enough
The car smells so clean
The snow is so pretty
You are so happy with your new partner
Everything is perfect
When does the new effect wear away?
But when does that phase end?
The new car will get *****
The snow will no longer be pure
Babies grow into children
Toys break
And relationships end
But how can you prolong the honeymoon phase?
Can you remain that happy forever?
Is there a theory yet?
Lets find one together... **You & Me

Many* couples have a *honeymoon but few get to it.

© Matthew Harlovic

I don't know much of anything about life or love or the grand "meaning of it all," but this I know: I hate the constraints society places upon us, ropes gathered up to knot relationships, tie them up and place them all in nice neat little packages with a cute presentable bow on top. We're supposedly in the "honeymoon phase" right now and we joke about how we'll know when it's done, when the real stuff has begun. But sir, the way I've spread my scars open, reopened all those old wounds for you to discover, evaluate, and assess, I refuse to believe none of this is the "real" stuff. Sure, maybe one day we'll have an actual, honest-to-goodness argument where our mouths become cannons for the shots we volley back and forth. But I can't believe, stubbornly refuse to even consider there will be a day I'll look into those emerald eyes of yours and not fall utterly in love all over again. I can't imagine a morning of waking up and not being grateful to have you next to me. Maybe love isn't constant perfection, and there's no way that every single day will be a dreamland fantasy, but maybe, just maybe when you've found a forever kind of love there isn't a "honeymoon period" at all. Maybe it just is, and that's enough.

and then you recluse...

to a side of you i'm not invited to
to a part of you i have no presence in

pars pro toto
you took bits of me that you dislike
totem pro parte
and blame other parts of me based on the faux whole 'me' that you created

when you think you need it
when you feel you need to stand your ground

using 'me'
against me

as you choose to exclude yourself from the picture...

everything in this life comes with an expiry date
most are far shorter than life itself

what are we without governing principles and morals
but mere primal

marry a cow!
we're all the same!

what's the point of winning
you're losing the millisecond you react to share your hurting feelings

i wish we can talk...
or wave goodbye in plain grassy field...
or probably, ... sit solemnly side by side in acknowledgment...

as the genesis of our days is long past...
as there never was needed any conclusion