In the Absence of Facts, Speculation

Hearts don't plot. They blunder onward,
As mine does, but minds must try to
Know, and mine's perplexed by you.
Your silence leaves it without facts
With which to gin up pleasant theories.
Do you want me as your secret,
Something precious, yours alone,
About which no one has to know,
And, thus, can't criticize or mock?
Has life been this unkind to you?
I wonder. Do you want the love,
But not the man who's brought it
To you? Do you only want my
Ears, and only them from time to time?
I can't be sure. You've said no
More than that you wish I wouldn't
Go. You know I won't. My mind's
Gone blank. My heart must blunder on.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 66 times
Written on 2015-06-07 at 14:44

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