Musings by The Poet Loriet
Homeless
He told me he needed space and time
to sort out his feelings, figure out his life.
He just said goodbye to me
for the fourth time, only we
were supposed to be in love.
He left me crying alone
in my bed tonight,
in serious need of a hug.
Oh yeah, everyone in town loved Rich,
the salt and pepper hair and
perpetual smile framed
by a gruff goatee beard,
face of an angel hiding
underneath.
I loved him too.
His kisses made my heart somersault.
He was very sexy, something "bad boy"
about his pierced nipple and wild tattoos
that made loving him fun,
and when I came to see him at the bar,
he made a mean Red-Headed Slut shot!
But the most intriguing thing was
his unexpected soft side, his love
of pianos in the dark, candlelight,
massages, calling me just to hear
my voice or ask, "Has anyone told you
today...that you're beautiful?"
I can't erase the image of children
flocking around him, the way his eyes
lit up and his face softened when
he held a baby girl snuggled in soft pink
and the way she returned his smiles.
He was just a big teddy bear!
I can't believe he's gone.
We made love tenderly just last week
after painting the town the color
of sunsets and hearts on fire.
We snuggled together in dimly-lit bars,
hands in each other's jean pockets.
We acted like infatuated teenagers,
then moments later like we'd been
together forever, comfortable and
familiar.
We went to the bookstore and
listened to Deepak Chopra
recite Rumi poetry to music
through shared headphones.
We snuggled on the couch
playing Trivial Pursuit and
rewarding each other with kisses
in exchange for correct answers.
I thought we were starting
something beautiful.
(I was wrong)
Until that damn seminar!
The one on dating after divorce
and he decided he had to adjust
to being a single dad because
"the experts say" and
"I don't think a relationship
right now would be in our
children's best interests."
Screw seminars! Screw the experts!
I just want my baby back!
I keep giving my heart away
to all of the wrong people,
the ones who keep it
for a pregnant moment
and then, shaking their heads sadly,
hand it back, aborting my efforts.
"I can't accept this gift."
Will my heart ever find a home?
Or do I need to set it on the curb
in a cardboard box with a hand-lettered sign:
Will work for love.
Lori Beal
to sort out his feelings, figure out his life.
He just said goodbye to me
for the fourth time, only we
were supposed to be in love.
He left me crying alone
in my bed tonight,
in serious need of a hug.
Oh yeah, everyone in town loved Rich,
the salt and pepper hair and
perpetual smile framed
by a gruff goatee beard,
face of an angel hiding
underneath.
I loved him too.
His kisses made my heart somersault.
He was very sexy, something "bad boy"
about his pierced nipple and wild tattoos
that made loving him fun,
and when I came to see him at the bar,
he made a mean Red-Headed Slut shot!
But the most intriguing thing was
his unexpected soft side, his love
of pianos in the dark, candlelight,
massages, calling me just to hear
my voice or ask, "Has anyone told you
today...that you're beautiful?"
I can't erase the image of children
flocking around him, the way his eyes
lit up and his face softened when
he held a baby girl snuggled in soft pink
and the way she returned his smiles.
He was just a big teddy bear!
I can't believe he's gone.
We made love tenderly just last week
after painting the town the color
of sunsets and hearts on fire.
We snuggled together in dimly-lit bars,
hands in each other's jean pockets.
We acted like infatuated teenagers,
then moments later like we'd been
together forever, comfortable and
familiar.
We went to the bookstore and
listened to Deepak Chopra
recite Rumi poetry to music
through shared headphones.
We snuggled on the couch
playing Trivial Pursuit and
rewarding each other with kisses
in exchange for correct answers.
I thought we were starting
something beautiful.
(I was wrong)
Until that damn seminar!
The one on dating after divorce
and he decided he had to adjust
to being a single dad because
"the experts say" and
"I don't think a relationship
right now would be in our
children's best interests."
Screw seminars! Screw the experts!
I just want my baby back!
I keep giving my heart away
to all of the wrong people,
the ones who keep it
for a pregnant moment
and then, shaking their heads sadly,
hand it back, aborting my efforts.
"I can't accept this gift."
Will my heart ever find a home?
Or do I need to set it on the curb
in a cardboard box with a hand-lettered sign:
Will work for love.
Lori Beal
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