Just Because

Just because we love our wife, or just because we love our husband, doesn't mean we cannot ever love another, in that way, and why not...are we slaves...is the ring..."the one ring, that in the darkness"...yada yada yada...isn't love to share...and isn't love that bright thing, not shades of, not all watered down and dribbled away, like a pee stream from a bad bladder... 

Why can't we touch another's heart, send them notes, candle light and sweet, if brief  sojourn's...why must we sign a 'binding' form, like some kind of dark magic, why must our heart's expanse be chattel, or a property, or plot we only place ourselves into...at days end, in some cemetery...why vow, and ever since...deny...to live a lie...for a ten carat pillow...why can't we thrill, as we are life...instead...we lock ourselves away and die...a little bit each night...

Who made that up...some clot...in some damned monastery...blotting love from ever seeing light...or was it God, or son of God...who said "love" is all you need, or some rare band...from Liverpool...is love what harbors us and makes us sound...in hopelessness...the same...we never get around...we only sneak around, nor say a thing...we really mean...is that why happiness is bound...like a maiden on a train track...or...is that the kind of love...that wreak's us...we walk away...all bloodied up, if we walk away, or soulless if we stay...

Is that the kind of love we want...from a jealous mate and a jealous god...and we're all pissed off, nor satisfied...of anything...is that our lot...who made that up...conjured of hate...we masturbate to someone else's face...and hide the real precious things...and meet in some closed office space...or car...or burger chain...and smile again, at the children that we are...for just a time...sweet children...with our nursery rhyme...of love...please...oh sweet love...

Are we to stay with those we cannot love...or must we bring a newness in, and is our mated love's heart large enough to let that be, to let us stay...and too, to stay and play with us, all children once again...of make up games and make believe...and tenderness...and miracles of...real real love...are we that capable...of moving up...the evolutionary chain...to love each other once again...god of love...I hope we are...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015