Flippant thoughts

That last time, finished all that was left of me I feel like the American soldiers in Iraq Boiling in hot air as the vultures circle lower and lower Walking bent through the desert And oh how my journey has been just like that only worse Much much worse

Love was so close Love was there

When she stood in the doorway before me Casting forth more and more beauty by the milliseconds Exceedingly more exquisite than anything I have ever known Speaking words of music In harmony with angel whispers From her bed where I watched her

How I longed for her to come near To come to bed She was even more stunning than ever Our love was everything good And it united something unknown within A connection

Six months

Now shes gone As gone as they get

This was the last time for me Nothing remains Of the hope that lived and kept faith in In Something I could only come inches from Only to loose in an instant

How long is the journey back? To before it began, And back to where?

The man in front of me falls as I step over his exhausted body

Did she get him too?


So, KJ--this exquisite beauty that you came close to loving (?) but felt exhausted with only after 6 months--this getter of men--did you like/love her--as a person and friend-- or just the image of her? I'm just curious. Will never cease to amaze me how those in love can choose to walk away from it, esp. when the love is reciprocated. Why the resistance to the bliss? But, I'm a simpleton about some things.

I love the way you quote Bukowski there at the end, "KJ." Do you like him too?

I am not familiar with Bukowski, Farelee. Will have to look into him.

Bukowski it was. My muse for this poem. An adaption if not pure plagerism. @Roody, this love was the love of my life. After one day. This poem was written with blues in mind. With Bukowski in mind. With that love in mind. Like most of anything I write since I came to know of this creatures existence. Its what I've been taken by. Eternally. Ma muse le belle.

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