Moon Day

I was busy this morning planning my pre-Christmas week and fixing my new music and writing nook.

And then as I was grappling with all the lists and notes and calendars this little poem slipped through the cracks and splattered onto a page.

this love is null and void
it is exacted under duress
it does not count
being so convenient
defaults are always suspect
authenticity can be tricky
when there are no other options
this love is a desperation
promises screamed by the drowning
bargains struck by poverty
pure survival, not much else
grasping at straws and mirages
the desert-thirst of the lonely
this love is a compromise
a just-in-case, temporary heart-filler
this love is a double-edged sword
it cuts me as much as it cuts you
and cuts everything else in between
possibilities shredded by false hopes
and guilt and irrational expectations
and tugs-of-war and fevered imaginations
this love is a black hole
or maybe it is a universe about to explode
either way it is a nuisance
peppering my days 
with random joys and random pains
and the worst of it
that foolish hope that slips through
little bursts like bullet shots
this love is a curse
an ill omen, a darkness, a trial
a labyrinth to be escaped
a disappointment to be endured