Written in 2022 – Page 12 – Hearts Still Care

There’s a rush of roses
And sweets smearing my hands!
After all this time, I don’t think
My heart still understands –
It’s wary, yes – it’s unsure –
It’s much quieter than before;
It lies, in tremulous wait,
Of what lies in store.

But there’s still a rush of want,
There’s sex and there is hope,
So It quietly believes, still,
That it can cope
With whatever the future brings:
Sweets and roses, or bitter thorns,
A flight upon angel wings,
Or an impaling on demon horns.

Silly thing, why can’t it give in –
To life and all the lessons learnt
And the dreams, of a few years ago,
That now lie wasted or burnt?

i lie in bed and my world is awhirl,
i think, and think, as i am lying…
i look at the small world i had and have,
i see, and see, and watch it dying;

these are the loves i had, all gone,
that was my family, the very few i had,
and each of them had to die, they did –
but their leaving still keeps me sad.

i remember the books i read, nights and days,
as a child, when i ran after butterflies,
i think it becomes so fucking sad to know
that most of this world is based on lies;

it says i am old now, even the lovers,
who come to seek my body out at my door;
but like all life it does not feel old inside,
I still feel the butterflies and so much more!

time has passed, and time will pass, as it has,
every poet i studied warned it must be so,
now i have seen lies and death up close,
i never chose to know them, but now i know…

i recognise the lies, i made peace with death;
but my world’s butterflies still fly and fly,
so, i’ll think my world a merry go around,
and since i am yet alive, ill try and try.