Sometimes love
feels like the blues.
Most times
my muse has been
the absence of you.

And all my cheap rhymes.
All they do;
cannot compare to
the sun after a rain;
an undimmed smile from you.

Oh sweet mist of memory;
you’re so near, so far,
so in between.
Our fingers twined;
it’s what they don’t dare do–
but what I’d make them
if you only knew.

Sometimes love
gets so cruel;
the sick timing
no pleading can undo.

The past has passed.
The present too.
They’ve made me tense,
thinking toward
a future with so many
unsettled thoughts of you.

I won’t push
without a pull.
I’m not asking for much;
just an admission
there’s been an itch
that need not be scratched,
but maybe bit.

Sometimes love.
Sometimes you.
Sometimes my muse
just needs a pump of fuel.

And all my cheap rhymes.
All they don’t dare do.
You’re so near, so far,
so stupid good.

written on 10/15/2017 by: Matt Kane