A Poet's Haven

I came across a title of a piece I wrote…It is dated May 21, 2014…Three months from this date I will meet someone online that will alter my course in life. I was unable to find it online, it contained this image as well…

” a disease called love “

She was blessed with one of those voices, a sultry mixture of femininity. The sound of which could crawl deep into your soul, and lay siege to one’s heart. You will find her, playing gigs up and down the coast, in little hole in the wall joints. Where she will pack them in like sardines. I’m one of them, you can find me near the back hiding in the shadows. Not that she would remember, even though it hasn’t been that long.

We don’t get to pick who or when we fall in love, it just happens. Yes I know there are many who fall in love with an image, a lifestyle, some concept that love is achieving some station in life. And of all the gin joints in the world, I was drawn into one by the sultry sound of her voice.

It is said that we remember the laughter, no it ‘s the passion we remember, it’s the passion we try to recreate, to live again. I’m talking about the kind of passion, where fingernails are buried into your scalp, with gouges down the back. Locked embraces of entwined limbs where you’re left gasping for air, while screaming ecstasies between gasps.

Yes I sit in the shadows where I close my eyes, and listen to her voice. Listen as she plucks each chord where each note evokes a scene, played out between damp sheets and bad coffee in pre dawn skies where we avoided each other’s eyes. As I relive each and every moment, our moment. Yes I am sick. I suffer from a disease, a disease called love, a plague upon man since he bit into that apple.

image unknow…