I am not the sun
Nor am I the moon
Perhaps
I can just be a lighthouse
On some storm tossed shore
Guiding a seeking ship
Into safe haven.
You tell me I can trust you
but save your breath,
because the two things I can trust now
are belief in myself and death.
A pandemic
one can deal with –
All heartbreaks
are quite chaotic!
If only
washing hands
helped –
The Lady
wouldn’t turn psychotic.
Every time I think I am getting over
you,
A friend comes home
And says,
”You’re better off, boo”;
Or
an underwear
You
left
behind,
Sneaks out
of our drawer,
And fucks with my mind;
Or
I see some guy
Walking down the street…
And I am reminded
of your
Hair,
or eyes,
or gait,
or feet –
And, no matter what therapy I have gainfully employed,
You
descend on my heart,
And I find it
destroyed.
Hearts Still Care 
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