Down the highway of dried up tears, pent up lust
by Stephenie VanCampJones
and hopeless dreams, or to dwell
in a cesspool of mistrust, as a raw and exposed
heart tries to heal to no avail
and without will.
Can the mind ever forget the laughter that lingers
from all night phone conversations
while curled up in bed, exhausted only by
the concentrated wish to be on the other side.
Is there an assault upon the passion of love,
in the happily ever after,
and will the heart remain forever wistful
of what never was and what will never be?
If only the thought remains of a butterfly kiss
upon the lips, and the wish to be touched
clear through to the essence of the soul,
perhaps it was all in the mind, purely imaginary-
Perhaps better in thought than in person.
For it will inevitably remain unknown forever,
now that the crow has flown south.