When perfect isn’t perfect,
and enough is just too late
wondering if settling is up
or if true love’s off this plate.
When passions curse the aged together
and together feels like ease,
nothing simple is ever safe,
it just feels like another disease.
A cancer to the lungs, a smoking cough
to set it off
everything is just so right
but its all simmering with no hot.
And when you look at all you wanted
you see his face
you wonder if this wonder-lust
is just a wonder-safe.
Something lacking melody but imbued with
that rhyme you with their marigolds
and stick you with their flats.
There never seems to be a charge to push you to your end
a crisis never reached only seldom-ly in bed.
When touch can kiss the skin send ice right through its core
a trap is set through windows pouring out
And every rhyme you’ve ever felt is cold to hearts own game
because romance has flattened out
it needs another refrain.
For when it reaches climax you seem to come redone
and find yourself so simple,
so much in love.
But love would rather swelter where you sit in this pot
it’d rather reach you to a boil
while you bubble in your spot.
And while you sit their soaking up
all marry rhymes and shelters
passion dies, romance it flies and nothing is the better.
(March 12 2012)