The Fool in Me
What happens to me when it’s over?
I know the leaves will orange and crunch in beautiful death
But so far it seems I’m destined to remain like the tree:
Barren and over-chilled.
What does one make of a soul whose lost its mate?
A river without a path to frequent
Or curves to cut
Lies flat and mightless.
A concrete pair we are
Drawn together by chance
Matched under the guise of fate.
If there can only be one as legend has us believe
Then what is a man to live if not eternal life with her?
Spines wilt and castles crack
All in due time.
I find this true and tried far past my own century.
This instant of triumph and complement
Is all but misery, truth be told
Yet the dark depths in me can’t help but wonder
How the end credits will roll.
Living a dream makes the wake up inevitable.
Total bliss makes loss
reach deeper than typical nicks
far more profound in bite and burn.
If she leaves before me, God forbid,
the blisters and gashes and future repurposed may never recover.
If I meet demise before her, however,
I understand how I shall prove myself a proper fool in love.
Love L A C E #6