happiness gave me hearthritis;

virus of love’s voyeurs.


the delusion


has value, that you can write a

rubbish verse never meant to be


but you can translate its idioms;

that motherfucker hurts.


aching in the bones of romance,

a bowlegged dance with


wisdom filling nerves

reckless abandon



I’ve watched my love herded to the far side and back,

yet my wrists have never crackled or popped

like this.


this kiss has never been described as cold, although

as I grow old,

the temperature of tone plummets, and it’s hard to

keep the words

coming off them



(ditto for locking lips)


It’s not that I don’t want you,

nor that I will quit,

but we won’t dance bowlegged

because it’s a risk in the dark, and

all the candles in my

heart have










One thought on “hearthritis

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