What It Is Not

What It Is Not

For so many nights we stayed up past bedtime discussing
Discussing… discussing, and I was wowed by your cussing
about the idea of what love is. But there was that one night.

We decided to focus on what it was not. And had a revelation.
Sometimes you can get to know a thing better simply by
tag-team cussing about what you do not think it is!

We decided, unanimously, that it cannot be coerced.
That is, it is perhaps the opposite of force. Whatever love is.
Love to us became when two people say Finally… I am free.

I poured another merlot. A sliver of moon shimmer in the glass.
You asked a question that ended in the word remorse.
There and then, we consigned that word also to the depths.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --

The Sad Part Is That I Lived

The Sad Part Is That I Lived

Slitting my wrists would be a bit drastic, perhaps.
But pulling my hair out definitely presented itself.
The foyer of my mind a battlefield of malapropisms.

Just this once I wanted to say the right thing to you.
Houdini could not have engineered a better set-up.
The elevator doors closing in. No viable escape.

Two armies in disarray falling all over their comrades
I pulled the grenade pin -- You smell so soap-scented.
10 -- 9 -- 8… It's merely lime hand lotion, you said.

Fumbled in your purse for something you do not need.
Gave a smile. The doors opened, you were gone again.
Leaving me in no man's land. Between eager and dead.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --