It takes a sacred space in the heart
To truly own and except what has been
Words spoken or the silence of the unspoken
The proverbial bell that can’t be un-rung
“I love you” never passes through lips or floats in the air
When reality is like a twist of the heart strings
At first it is a burn, slowly turning to warming ambers
With each text, date made, night spent
Music filling the air, drinks, laughter
The slow seductive dance
And kisses that end in a blur
A sway of snippets
And a sequence
Of flip-book images
Black and white; no color
What is real – what’s a dream
When it all feels like gauze
Gently placed over a lens
Of sex and passion
With no place for love

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