emotional disasters

will today's emotional disasters
really last past noon,
or will they become
mere leftovers,
to be consumed soon,
or thrown in the trash?

if I were to stop loving you
(no chance),
who would there be
to clean up after
the lost romance?
who will be left to do
all that need be done,
if we are no longer two?

ah, the muffin man,
from the baking pan,
he is the one
with the half-smile
not done,
to complete the plan,
with his floury élan;
thank goodness for
that baker's dream,
as he seems now
so much more
than he then seemed;

endless nights
complete boundless days,
and two souls unite
in uncountable ways;
distance overcome
with fiery intensity,
unquenchable urges,
slay all sensibility;
if I do not love you now,
what will remain
if ever I see you
ever again;
not a dot, not a smidge
can I see on that horizon,
so I seize every single thing
that I lay my eyes on;

I confess that all my efforts
nonetheless conspire
to rob me of success,
seeking only your
continued happiness;
I sometimes am tired
of rolling that rock up
that hill, scorched by a fire
that I cannot stop,
pushed on by a will
that I get to the top;

these emotional disasters
will always be with us,
and we will never be
the masters of all that
surrounds us,
but I will never stop trying
to buoy this union,
since when you see a true love,
you must work steadily
to be one.

March 12, 2010, for the Wifey, whom I adore.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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