my heart given to the sorrows of you, for your caresses, kisses given so freely from blood to water,water to sand,

love, an image of creation disturbing to some not so real for others, by minds whose protection for these    ideas are far too little;

if all is fair in love, then why should you be my concern, lies and deceit your friend of choice, very unwise for your heart;

I notice pain on your sleeve where what you call a heart once was, strange replacement for the good you would want us to see;

suggestions that I look elsewhere, the emptiness that has overcome you, when eyes look away to another faceless in front of half-truths;

whether yours whether mine the indifference that becomes so obvious, that I should reluctantly turn away, for there is little to do;

please don't return to me, you really are much better without, as I am no doubt too, not taken for what I am taken for but just taken;

all is said and done, my soul scorched with pretend devotions to something I have never yearned for, just how much will you take.

              Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â             Tim m17/   COPYRIGHT-2008 WINDSONG PRESS