How do …? #love

How do you deal with a love that’s gone sour?

How do you survive when it’s no longer ours?

How do you remain a human being right true, with all that kindness and kindliness intact?

How can you move on without leaving behind the moments which made your living so good?

How can you display the best of your humanity when inside your thoughts is reigning over and reining in the tragedy of one?

How can any tragedy be justified as relevant blue, when all schools of thought remain taut and stiff, and resolutely bought?

How might you revert to one without resorting to bitter?  How might – one day, in the future! – you be two again?  How might you just live and create out of beauty?

How might you recover and recuperate your innocence?  How might you turn this dissonance into life? How might you die as the good man you could have been?

And when all’s said and done, and hung out to dry, in the brutal ironies of existence’s try and fail, how should you conduct yourself without faking your toys?  How would joyful be possible – I mean, honestly again?

And so finally I have returned to becoming this man of terrible repute: the man who never hated and now does nothing else.  So please show me – soon if you can! – some way to be a different man.

Show me a way to thrive utter clean.  Show me a way to just sensibly be.  Show me a way to credit my species.  Show me a way to live and love and even like, above and beyond the tinder of hike.  Show me it’s good and show me it’s real.

Show me how seven lines may change a world; yours and mine.  Show me how you love me, after all this slanged-up rhyme.  Show me how larkish we can sex and play together.  Show me how – finally! – sharpish the wit of your ride will be.

And if through all my constancy I have achieved anything good, at least forgive my madnesses: for they are born out of truths, and I am only searching ought.  

And where the light of fine times can replicate our attempts …

… let us retain our life amidst every strife, and every wrong road of real anger poorly taken.

One day, surely, we shall get it right.

One day all of this shall be written.

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