we can walk around it,
dance around it even.
cover it with club soda, vinegar.
we can patch it up with
duct tape, leave it in the rain,
soil it by leaving it to
a drunkard with the spins
in an unmade bed they don't belong in.
we can wash it down with
sugar-coated conversations,
or demean it to a first name basis
and a prophylactic in the dark.
we can make it and we can break it,
but we can't fake it.
we've already tried.
it doesn't work out.

either way it's got us in a
head-lock, a strong-hold,
it's a tight-gripped metal vice
that penetrates even the toughest skin.
there's no simplifying or explaining,
no way to make it fast or easy,
it doesn't come with the band-aid guarantee,
you can't rip it off fast and
recover from the sting,

because those remnants...
those little reminders,
those synapse-moments of a flash-back
pictorial surfaces at random and
catches your breath in your throat.


it's a doubled-edged dagger,
that Love.
it's every stupid word
that's ever been said before
about the same universal
sentiment.

and it's all true.
and it all hurts.
and it's never unique,
but it always feels so lonely
when it's gone.

i am in love.

love is the sling
i am in.

07/28/2006

Posted on 07/28/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer