Lost Cause
Love is the lost cause
bleeding in the dusty halflight
of a suburban sad cafe.
Remembrances of autumns past
and kisses beneath Texaco neon,
a wrong turn and a fleeting smile,
a flash of light in the utter darkness
of youth.
A fragile spirit, bitter and broken,
a glass heart
placed precariously on the ledge,
dangerous
yet safe
in the security of a fading memory.
Alone 'neath starlit skies
and snowy slumber,
falling into the night,
sullen vespers,
the smell of your skin,
aching for love
somewhere in a motel in Massachusetts,
your name a knife
in these October wounds.
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