somewhere, we took a wrong turn

A recipe 

for 

dissapointment. 

First,

allow oneself

a sense of utter

vulnerability.

Trust

him

enough

you give

him

a

piece

of your

soul,

slivered off,

shining

bright and holy and kind

on presented platter—

wait, anticipate, will him—

take it!

For god’s sake,

take it!

Cloud-like:

seemingly unmoving

but

take your eyes off them—

traveled half-way

‘cross the sky.

Here’s

my soul offering--

keep it

safe,

whole.

Please?

It’s dripping

out of my

hands;

I’m not sure

I can hold

this

much longer.

Did I

read words

printed

on your lips

wrong?

Or,

like clouds,

change

mid-way

into something

I couldn’t have

anticipated.

I hate this

too much.

Dry up,

thoughts,

haunt me no more—

rose petal desires

turned

dusty memories

in winter sun,

regrets soon

blown

to ash.

Utter

disappointment

bites your bones,

lurch forward,

stumble into

blind

frustration.

Romantic endeavors

should be left

to those

whole

of heart.