True Love

Some poor sap sits blubbering into his beer,
In a booth in the back of the room. Somebody
Tells me he's lost his love, and he's taking to
Heart every word of the song on the jukebox.
It says that he'll never forget her. “Dude,” I
Tell him, “it isn't that way. You'll be sad
For a while, and then you'll heal. Memories
Fade, and others arrive, and your first love,
Your last, and all in between become dust
Over time. They are carried away. All you'll
Remember are names.”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2010-08-27 at 18:47

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