Blind Date

Blind Date

Our loneliness may have sifted and settled.
We had it made before memories had mettled.
Once sweet mutual love was tender and soft.
But now a dark dependence keeps sorrow aloft.
   
On this date, we dare not go too deep.
Past paradise soon became, “What the bleep?”
Through our fine attire, the pain may seep.
We’re praying to Satan their past lives to keep.

We now display, benign lines of age,
Forming them deeply from tales of rage.
We can’t escape self- infliction’s trap.
Can’t relight snuffed flames, so call it a wrap.

Our deluge of neediness had no bar.
It was weaponized love taken too far.
To force them to be always beholden.
Parting grief never grew golden.

What we thought was intimacy, was a human pillow.
Like an old painting of a weeping willow.
If we assess the other, to revive our ex.
It will ruin our chances of having sex.

But it’s great to know neither one’s a creep.
If it goes well enough, we’ll lose some sleep.
Keep hopes high, but expectations low.
If we get dizzy, let’s not let it show.   

But trust calls love’s mystery, from pasts so jaded.   
With time and tonight’s wine, let it be celebrated.
Have spirits calm the heart, and wrest from anguish.   
A revived and vivid new life of love we can languish.   

Let’s be the thousand loves of heart’s past crushing.
Naked to gales of raw passion, without any blushing.
Embracing in a blaze, with hues and spires, and such.  
Exploding in a spiral’s vortex at most delicate touch.