A Love Story

Once, a shy girl: soft imploding,
Preset pillows, pressed decoding,
Colored contacts, carbo loading,
Lover, fighter, guard of dreams —

Then, a new boy: bright exploring,
Hope expanding, thoughts outpouring,
Dark hair shining, passions warring,
Writer, painter, all extremes —

Came a moment: golden gladness,
Manic mixture, molten madness,
Scenes of soon-forgotten sadness,
Two lives taken off of shelves

Once, a shy girl: gotten bolder,
Then, a new boy made to hold her,
One more day, but not just older,
Two new people, now

A Cynical Love Story

They fell in love quite typically,
The common apparatus --
He loved her for her looks, and she,
She loved him for his status

And all of it seemed cynical, 
Except, one day, they found,
With time and common property
They'd come to common ground

As he had come to love her mind,
And she his probity,
For he was more than money, and
She far more than

A body

Three Was Not A Crowd

She loved him and she loved his golden dog,
And both of them loved her like none before;
It was a summer long ago, but I
Can see them still, right now, as bright as sun
For they, the boy and girl, live on in love
Though that transforms in time, it grows up wild,
And golden dogs live only for a time
To teach us what love looks like when it's pure


I see them, as they were at seventeen: 
Two, joined together, always, everywhere. 
On school or church trips, sort of just one body, 
If you saw her, you knew he would be there -- 

But like an illness, sometimes, love just passes, 
The constant soon becomes a memory, 
And "they" are long-forgotten, save at moments, 
When I'm back here at home, and 

She's with me

The Hanover

This place was very different once. 
The brightly lit playbill -- 
They fell at an early winter show  
The day the earth stood still 

They promised, soon, to always love, 
A thing they did past dying; 
And when she went long after him, 
We stood here, one day, crying 

How much that crumbles once was gold,  
How memories can fool us; 
But love is the only tyrant left 
Who's really fit 

To rule us

Behind the Fence

She was his love, behind the fence, 
 but he was loth to show it; 
She was his only, long, true, love -- 
 but didn't know it. 

He built them castles made of ice, 
 to float with weightlessness; 
His every thought, of her, while she 
 could not care less. 

Behind the fence was where she stayed, 
 while he grew old with waiting -- 
A love made up of naught, but one