how quickly lives can touch,
it does not take much time,
Just a bit of love, not much,
that molds a heart to mine;
there is a quaint sadness,
when time’s not on your side,
mixed with a strange gladness,
hope left behind to bide;
the road goes on, as does time,
hope moves on, the heart aches,
love promises the sublime,
but seldom gives what it takes…
I have been here before;
I have slept on this floor;
I have counted each vein,
Left on windows by rain;
Spoken words echo through;
Each remind me of you
And you and you and you;
I don’t doubt all were true,
When you said them to me;
They filled this room, silently;
They seeped into these walls;
Each one of them recalls
How they filled a lost heart;
And stayed to never part;
But you did;
And I hid.
I left this place of hope;
I left this place to cope,
With what was left to me,
Quite silently.
I walk back now,
With a wiser brow,
And a sharper eye,
With no need to try
To weigh my mistakes.
(I thought there were none.)
I do not blame you;
Neither this soft view,
Through the window pane,
Against fresh soft rain
That is so known; yet
Such that I forget
Why I hid long ago
From this slept-on floor.
I thought rescuing you would be better
Than your being hounded by men,
With sticks who chased you out
To be hounded by territorial strays again:
A vicious cycle that I broke
By bringing you home; and not thinking
Of what would become of you with me:
A tender connection, an inevitable linking,
That I would end up feeling over.
Emotions are so easily made;
They form almost as easily as you,
Running into my arms the moment
I held them out to you,
Like some fool-hardy egotistical saviour.
It takes seconds for a bond to take hold,
It takes forever for it to be broken,
It’s a yoke that’s man’s best and worst,
Where nothing ever need be spoken.
Hearts Still Care 
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