Love (Version #22)

Love is blind to my fingers. I can’t see nor speak.

I have left buildings unbuilt.

I left stadiums filled with trash.

I left back seat lovers alone to crumble into high tea.

High noon galleries are shot down from false trees.

I write, blind to the very alphabet I seem to have hatred too.

Its only love that makes me follow the words I now speak.

They tell me she is beautiful.

Beyond my dreams and my nightly nightmare.

Why does the nightmare continue to haunt my every day existence then?

I’ll never know,

Instead, I’ll get in the cockpit, and I’ll fight the fight a fighter jet fights.

Because love is love,

And love I’ll leave alone.

Because if its love I understand,

Then love is not what I’m in.

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.01.30.22:22:15@296NYC