The crossroads of the embrace or the decay?
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
We decide what we need and not with the quickest of decision. If we knew. It was the last time you would see someone face. Would we release them forever?
Wanton Lovers who dances in zealous of a boundless love once are facing each other with tears and sorrow. The shrine of love had been devoured by blacken memories and poor decisions.
Promises made and broken strand two people on the crossroad of decision. The city sleeps andtwo people stand like gunfighters on the edge of right and wrong.. Ready to kill and bury a once sweet and endearing love.
Young girl holding a stuffed animals with words upon it chest. “I will love you forever.” She asked. “Do you remember when you ran home to me. Kissed me upon my ears, upon my cheek and carried me to the soft bed of soft cotton linen and the smell of scented candies. You couldn’t get enough of me. Were we just actors swimming in fake passion and love?”
The sad lover looked to the sky. He remembered how he desired his true love. Stopped his life to spend time with her. He told her. “Lovers love. Haters hate. I remember you. You were the girl with the wildflowers in your hair. An outlaw in life and great dreams. We have come apart somehow. We must decide to embrace or die. The decay of love will come and steal the sweetness from the embrace. We must find the mercy to forgive and hold on.”
The young woman sat by the river. She looked at the stars. She was deciding where the crossroads would lead. There was no great sin between them. Work, children and life were tearing them apart. Soft tears fell from the woman and she got up and embraced her lover. She told him. “Love is delicate. We must find the old paths and rekindle things lost. I love you still. You taught me love was fair and you allowed me to be myself. Never tried to change who I’m”
Two lovers holding tightly. Watched the sun arise from the east. They have learned.
All decisions of love and life can send you into darkness or the light. Wise people hold on. Love is tender and can be easily broke-down by bad actions and poor judgement. Real love stand strong in the hurricane of life.
Old Grandpa told me. “Grass may look greener and better across the street. You won’t know unless you cross the street and touch and feel the green. Most folks learn. You left a good place and cannot return. The grass you left was perfect and strong”
Song of the dead. The song of the living.
The ancient lovers know.
Real love had good and bad days.
Real love rise and fall with the tide of living.
Fear not the night.
Wise lovers will hold on.
Ensuring promises are kept and the love is sow and never forgotten.
Sweet love, tender love.
Please do not forget me.