Coin Toss

I’ve been turning my pain into poetry

And paying ear to Passenger’s pining melodies,

Black letters pour over the pages

As I scrawl my uncertainties.

I’ve always questioned love

Of the romantic variety,

It seemed to live in the realm

Of fantasy and zealotry.

When half of those part

Who join themselves with incantations and ink,

It’s hard to have faith

In the ties that bind or the chains that link.

I know that I am not them

And they are not me,

But sometimes I wonder if we differ much

From the failing majority.

Who sought for love and failed to find it,

Who sought for love and found no respite;

Instead, blindness, madness, insanity;

Insomnia, desperation, adversity.

Of course, love can be pleasant

Love can be pure,

Love can be steady

Love can be sure.

But how can we know if what we have is real?

How can I know if this sound of your voice

That makes me so grateful,

Will not one day make me furious and hateful?

Will not one day make me question my choice

To reside forever in your embrace

And make your tongue my favorite taste?

How can I know if love is true

That total disaster will not ensue?

The truth is none can possess

Perfect knowledge of the future,

But your caress can be

The perfect suture,

For a heart that’s been broken, beaten, impeded

For a soul that’s been sullied with grieving.

Only time will tell if we can make this last;

I’m willing to hold steadfast

I’m willing to give it my best go,

It’s a coin toss

But I can’t seem to say no.

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