The Song
My fingers trace a path over the magnificent fold.
Smiles replace memories, the face behind the mask.
I trace down to the center, down to a place of gold.
What a beautiful journey! I’ve never had such a task...
Out-of-focus petals tease my eager heart to jump.
And so I set off, with my throat harnessing a lump.
Let my lips caress your soul with my soft, unspoken words.
Let yourself believe none of them to be absurd.
Allow the flowing tears to show my love for you.
And then realize that they’re from what you do.
I can beg or plead or pound, asking for the chance
To take your hand so gracefully so we may begin the dance.
But if your heart decides that this decision you are to make
does not involve the dance, then that’s the one your heart will take.
I could never force you to let yourself go ill
it’s important that you realize: my heart’s begun to fill.
The purpose of this heart-felt prose was once to ease the present.
Instead, became of worries that are a dangerous intoxicant.
Clarity is the focus when the words begin to show
That deep down, so sharply, all these things I know.
I gaze upon you now, everything is so secure.
You let me touch your heart because you were that sure.
My words have found their target, the idea all along
that one day, a perfect day, our hearts would beat the same song.
4-15-98
Christopher Loflin
I stopped writing about love and started writing about pain many years later.
