Tuesday, July 7, 2015



 A young man doesn't always think with his head
There are often less admirable organs in play;
When decisions are made - those go/no go choices,
That you come to regret at the end of the day. 

I made a few bad ones in the interminably lonely
Years spent blundering up and down and everywhere.
I spent my energy in a frantic and stumbling search,
Knowing in the hard world, you were still out there.

Lips are stupid things that dull the wits and heat the brain.
Seven times I found myself fired off the wrong direction,
By gunpowder kisses, laced with hormones and fire till at last
I learned to keep them closed - for my own protection. 

Stupid me I never thought that you might not be
An ardent kisser; that you might be a creature
Of wind and fire, mind and passion more than I ever,
Bargained for, and that lips are but a single feature.

And in the end I found that passion is not the thing
I thought it was, when I was young and hormone-raged.
 I've learned a steady fire heats passion better than explosions.
And has settled in my soul; grown ever deeper as we've aged. 

(c) 2015 by Tom King

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