You cannot blame the man
since the world was in splinters
and he was dirty,
climbing in and out of windows
with fire in his shoes
and passion flickering
in his green flecked eyes.

Since the dawn of time
men have been crawling
through dystopia
to find love
and this remains true;
they’d cut their right hand off
if that meant they could
touch a woman
the way they truly wanted to.

So he arrived,
head to toe in bandages
with one hand over his heart
and a promise or two
on his chapped
and bloody lips.

And as in ordinary fashion
he found himself
with his tail between his legs
walking under the orange light
of the street lamps,
glowing incandescent gods
cradling him one last time.

01/23/2016

Posted on 01/23/2016
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