When did it start,
where will it end:
the metamorphosis that changed you
from Dante (or Beatrice)
to dung beetle?
Don’t know the answer
to what has filled my eyes
with icy streams, has sprayed
my pristine heart with snow flakes,
and clouds from a stormy sky.
I don't blame you;
you are not to blame
for my bad judgment;
blame covers me
like a leaking raincoat.
I should have sensed the truth
of you, the insubstantial youth
of you, and the many lies that
love and trust made me accept
as passing aberrations.
It’s too late now: I have
no antivirus software installed
in the open forum I call my heart;
No delete button , no button B
To press and get you back!
(c)Patrick Talty 2004
This piece is packed with powerful images and poetic truth. I really enjoy the way you handle the "blame" issue here. Excellent work.
Great title - something that we all go through at some point in our life...very well-crafted!
Robert
Thanks for dropping by Patrick
Irish