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MY LOVES I give myself to the Lonely and broken-hearted. I stare at their dead eyes and gray faces. We press lips. I give myself to the Lonely and broken-hearted. I lay on top of stale, white bed sheets, Letting their void envelope me. I can feel in their fingertips, Pressed haphazardly across my flesh, They are touching former lovers: Eyes clear blue, well-built, fascinating. Lovers who loved them most tenderly, And hurt them in ways I cannot fathom. I can feel in their stares. They do not see me In any recognizable, Respecting way. I am unsure Who is the bigger fool, Me for being there, Or them for loving me. We both know We will never get what we want. But we like the effort of it: Pretending is safer than ignorance. --Ron Kaplan |
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