Image by Joshua Earle

Life is Love Lost

This is dedicated to those

we’ve lost and

those we’ve found

breezy days

before blistery rain

sleeping around

naughty rebounds

everything that cost

each fist-thumping gain

pursed teeth

grinning lips

shoulder punches

dejected hunches

wise quips

finger flips

cereal and bread

after-morning shave

BLTs slapped with

Philly spread

chased down

coffee and tea

a last minute

‘where are my keys?’

door slams

insults and cold stares

kiss and make ups

till one behaves

text messages

and phone calls

raunchy sex

over distant dials

roast chicken, salad, fries

before penultimate

goodbyes

This is dedicated to those who love

And those who live

And those who struggle

To be alive.


Life is love lost

and lost found

give and take

amid push and pull

the bearing of the sea

in a thousand follies

a goodbye before a hug

a smile and a windswept kiss

a push back, a suck in

the wet

dragged in

reigning

a wave

not meant to be seen

a soft caress

a hand hold

in a warm hug

my eyes to yours

a quivering mug

au revoir, sayonara

till we meet again

where life we part

our strife it starts

you push I pull

or was it

you take I give

to feed so full?

movie nights

and cheesy bites

swollen lips

crunching nacho chips

shampoo after cordon bleu

cushions stained

with morning dew

cognition slurred

with each adieu

the wind beneath our sails

the cds and their fancy frills

the pages that gave us chills

as words stripped us bare

that sixteen year dare

spun rings in a wizened tree

as the cardinal watched while

faerie enchantments

kissed away

every measured reply

your smile

my gaze

my tongue

your pace

hand hold

stay, let go

words and smiles

so many guiles

arranged alphabetically

listed till forgotten

put aside like

dated laundry

damp and trodden

my shirt slept in

your perfume soaked

sweet sweet tangerine

stroked hair

and pinched lips

scratched trees

and kite strings

a hug which resides

words left unsaid

dip of your head

and nod from my eyes

diamonds

the glimmer

the moon

it wavers

a rotary of

semi,demi,quavers

the note pressed once

twice it faded

a search for the answer

an afternoon séance,

a cy-cy-cycle

as we rang the rosy

predilections abound

our double entendre

our two-sided mirror

what if

what was

what could if

ever always be?

stay, no, go

the jamais vu

we didn’t outgrow

while our boat with no oar

swept by each tide

sank itself

deep below the Bering

it had to reside.

{my life is yours

as yours is mine

how much

have we left behind}

A single golf clap? Or a long standing ovation?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.