Are you poetically inclined
to change my mind,
with words and phrases
and changing phases –
Winter, spring, summer, fall,
life, love, sadness and all?

To laugh, to cry,
to laugh and cry,
to fail, to try,
to try and fail.

It’s bittersweet
when nothing remains
as you cringe in pain
in the pounding rain,
bleeding in shame,
wondering what
you had done wrong.

Too short
to find happiness,
long enough
to cherish memories.

Loving pain,
hating love,
needing both.

The oxymoron
where shadows mix
with sunlit rays.
Metaphors and similes
don’t change a thing.
Touch my life.
Yeah, right.

I know the truth,
hidden deeper
and deeper
in my mind,
reflected in
your sparkling eyes,

a heart-shaped
teardrop
above your lips,
whispering words
of comfort,
to cover thoughts
of pain.

Yes, I know.
Are you still
poetically inclined
to change my mind?