I Clutch Tightly to the Blurring of You

In that erroneous age, the twenties
I had such ‘illusions’
I lived with love
And made only art
Hoping I would be able to eat tomorrow

I never averted my eyes
From rainbows and fountains
From women who seemed
In touch with a higher reality
Like a sweet heart

I buried my lips in the snow
Only to feel it melt in my spring
Then I turned thirty, and everything changed
I had only ‘poems’ to call my own

I lived alone
And made my heart
One with honeybees:
Honey looks different with age.

9 thoughts on “I Clutch Tightly to the Blurring of You

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