she’s a fisherman
spends her days casting for love
releasing once caught
relationships
pitching pennies…
tossing words like coins
game of petty emotions
which no one can win
just talk to the hand….
please
don’t say
those words
again
about
us
all getting along
because
we can’t
hell
even lovers
can’t
do that
so
why
do we pretend
that
the embedded
rebars
of
ignorance
and
hate
can be chiseled
from
centuries
of
layered
contrived history
each
previous
attempt
has been
paved over
with
more
hatred
and
fabricated
reasons
to
fear
others
that
are
not understood
nor
acknowledged
for
that matter
so
please
do not
bother me
with
can’t we
all
just
get along
natural heritage site…
how is it a touch
can convey a whole lifetime
without one word said
just just-in-time friends…
called
on
an
as needed
basis
otherwise
their
faces
are
quite
invisible
no need
to
warehouse
personal relationships
nor
store
past emotions
of
devotion
when
one can
merely
send a text
requesting
that
everything be dropped
on
their behalf
but
best to wrap it
in
phrases
like
we really should have lunch
or
i’ve been thinking
so much
about
you
for the longest time
however
better yet
is the admission
of
the sin
of
omission
with
some
act of contrition
words
deeply personal
admitting
to
the neglect
of
your special relationship
with
said friend
seeking
their absolution
before
asking
for what
you
really
want
disquieted and distressed…
honey
if
you want
to
get it right
in
the night
don’t go talking
’bout
what’s wrong
in
the world
or
whose done
you wrong
at
some point
in
your life
or
who
you’re
gonna worry
’bout next
just
empty
that worry bin
and
see
and
touch
your lover
hypothesis support…
my forever love
words said and heard often and
this time life’s proved it
you didn’t hear me but…
whispered i love you
i didn’t want to wake you
but i couldn’t sleep
without saying those few words
no day’s complete without them
incomplete…
a flawless diamond
perfect in every way but
on wrong lover’s hand
imbalanced…
when
will the ghosts
arrive
the ones
that
plague
our memories
lovers
forgotten
promises
made
but never meant
words
not spoken
dreams
abandoned
for
compromise
oh
how
those ghosts
seem
to linger
outside consciousness
but
breathe
into each day
as
if
about to speak
but
ne’re
an audible word
is heard
just
whispers
how
can this be
is it
what they call
madness
when one
can
no longer hear
their own mind
above
the muddled whispers
of
their ghosts
