one and all maybe it's the alcohol
or ourselves, maybe it's this house
or maybe it's these conversations
we can't stop running around
love is certainly not a time-line
love's another word for history
love so far we struggle to define
love's relative to what's missing
we delight discussing these theories
and bust out these philosophies
as we rant our random hypotheses
and take for granted desire's hypocrisies
eventually we settle on nothing solid
but for love's not what we thought
and I tip back my drink deciding
tonight it's best not be distraught
the tiresome fight for understanding
has and is fought and now's long lost
and you and I, we resign to admire
love as something; privilege to be taught
but tell me; isn't love an experience
that must be lived and's razor concise
and that which we lack the words to
equate to and fail in attempts to describe
and furthermore the prized trophy
we strive to shelve before we die
it seems amidst this drunken banter
it's indiscreetly what we all wish to sigh
so night like this after night- repeat
we try to replicate the most we've felt
even if dealt with poorly in the past
to defeat our heart's will not be knelt
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2 comments:
Dear Ezbon. I am so glad you feel! Really feel things. I'm sure at some time you have wished that you didn't feel in the way that you do, and longed for what seems to others to be blissful ignorance, but I hope you have come to see it as a gift.
love.
Xo
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