Paradise is not all it's cracked up to be, love making in the afternoon, cuddles at night
The in and out ritual that means more than in the front door,
the dark of night alone, the wish for arms and lips and hips, missing when
needed most, the locked door, the people the fright of who might knock at night
when all others have fled to other homes, other arms, other lips and hips,
sometimes Paradise is a vacuum, the silence that resides when all the voices cease,
the peace we seek when we need more than the rant and rave of imagined love.
sometimes Paradise is being free of the bonds, the promises, the deception,
sometimes Paradise is being alone
No comments:
Post a Comment