Purple Prose
all worked up and no place to goArchive for Uncategorized
The sea of love between us
Keeps me from seeing me
As I was on the other side with you
It’s not that I have changed, as much
As a change in point of view
It’s not that I love you less
It’s not that love is gone
It is that love is, and that
There’s no more to be done
The sea of love between us
Has turned another way
I’ve thought about it long and hard
And what I know today
Is we no longer take bus rides
With no particular part to play
Nor anything much to say
Knowing less than to necessitate
The out of the way
The sea of love between us
Now lies squarely in between
It holds me under house arrest
It’s not that I mean to be mean
It’s an insufficient supply of words
And that I expect
You won’t suspect
My very intention
Not after all this conversation
The sea of love between us
Holds me deepest in its thrall
When faced with a humble obligation
I’m left feeling humungusly small
And resoundingly speechless
Though I hear you tell me
It’s all a mess
It never was
Before all this connected-ness.
The sea of love between us
Its ebb and flow is lost
Bereft of a time when
The prohibitive cost
Of keeping alive our simple love
Let us simply rise above
The price that we pay
For an ordinary phone call
To make an extra-ordinary day.
And then
When I say no
You say I told you so
That I
I will never know
But it’ll always show
Because
I’m naked
Naked as the light
Naked as the night
How nice, but even so
There isn’t this
Just you and me
This isn’t us
And then you go
And you do it again
And I
I look the sky
Straight in the eye
The first time I lie
I’m naked
Naked as the light
Naked as the night
Yes, if you must really know
There isn’t this
Just you and me
This isn’t us
And then I let go
And you never begin
And I
I will not tell you why
I will always shy
Just short of saying goodbye
I’m naked
Naked as the light
Naked as the night
You know, the thing is
There isn’t this
Just you and me
This isn’t us
It’s a shame, yes
But it’s only just
You and me
And fickle memory
Stubborn habit of rust
And the insistent dust
To cover every fantasy
In a parody of trust
It’s for the best
Let’s go for bust
No nudity
No lewdity
No this that isn’t us.
This is your love letter
For better
Or for worse
As the case might be
It doesn’t matter
Don’t you see
The complete redundancy
Of examining to extremity
The weight of that random possibility
That you may not after all
Love me
My dear, if you must
Choose only to trust
The grumble in your gut
That you’d choose me over
But
For my raging insurgency
And this curious tendency
To be so jarringly me
You have a point there, I see
But my dear, if you must
If only to resettle the dust
Helpless with love
Subject to lust
Abdicate present will
To find out if I love you still
You’ll forgive me
You’ll see
The blinding transparency
With which
I switch
And remain as always,
Your Oddest Oddity.