Love Triangle

Tricycle broken in the forrest.

He hurt you, then he hurt me and somehow we found each other.

No love lost between us for over a year and suddenly it’s staring us in the face.

Funny part is I wanted to hate you, needed to.  And we know it’s not right or in your words ‘not kosher’ but we can’t help but fall deeper into each other.

It’s fresh for both of us.  I can’t help wonder if the fragrance is floral or manure. 

It’s fresh either way and intoxicates us both.

We can’t help but talk about him.  The one who hurt us.  The one we loved.  Because we both still love him.

So what draws us together will likely pull us apart.  We think its cute and kitsch now.

A love triangle constructed in a geometry class in Degrassi Junior High.  But we all know where those go… triangles that is, and junior high dalliances.

Someone will be crying at the prom.  I hope it’s not me… but I definitely don’t want it to be you.  I’ve seen past the hate and come to treasure you too much. Him?

No. I could never want him to suffer as much as he’s manipulated us both.

Me then.

The two of you were miserably in love and I should have left it at that.  My third wheel has only made for a lopsided tricycle.

Interesting but not functional.

Have we learned anything?

I hope so. We can’t see ourselves in running water. You words again – you’re always clever with metaphor.  We have to wait and watch while the water is still…

And so we wait.

And watch.

And love each other and the moments as much as we can in the meantime. 

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Retro

Moustache close up.

I walked in the bar and my heart dropped to my stomach.  All it took was one glance in his direction.

Ball hat pulled low. Sacrilige.  Hiding those crystal blue eyes.

Handle bar mustache.  He’s drawn like a Tom of Finland dream.

I just want to grab hold and steer him to the door.

His shirt comes off.  Mine does too, pulled off by a dude in a harness who soon fastens one to me.  But my eyes are on him and that 70’s retro monstrosity crawling over his lip.

I want to kiss him.

My friends tell him so and when I order my next drink he is leaning over the bar pouring himself into my mouth.

It’s dirty.  I know.

It’s not like me.  I know this too.

But everything about him makes my body turn itself inside out.  I want to swallow him.  He’s surprisingly gentle as his furry lip presses against my own.

It feels amazing.  I want to do this all night.  And maybe we will.  I’m already counting the minutes to take him home.  

It’s not like me.  I know.

It’s dirty. I know this too but tonight we’re going retro.

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In Love with a Straight Guy

Artist Andrew Moncrief's painting titled Rest at Harvest

I finally understand the hurt I caused you.

It wasn’t intentional.  I promise.

I guess I wanted to be better, wished I could learn to love you.

I can’t control my heart.  Even if it tears me in two to love him.

I must.

I could write a hundred sonnets and still not be finished describing you in perfect detail.

The words, and they are all I have, are of no consequence.

But at least they’re proof.  We will never be together.  I understand this and accept it.

How can a man who loves women be with a man who loves men?

And yet the devil is in the details.  And in the details we’re in love.

You told me so, a marriage proposal no less, though you weren’t down on one knee.

I can’t explain how the very thought of you, even thousands of miles away utterly fills me.

My molecular structure is in tune with your very name.  Conjure it and my body alights. 

I love you, I always will.  Until this flame is extinguished and I pass forward onto a new existence.  My only hope is that in that lifetime we are destined together.

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