Completely done with her.
Good riddance to all her rubbish. I’m certain she carries with her satanic distractions anyway.
You’ve met her haven’t you? Vagabond emotion dressed in red, flirting with loneliness and desire, kidding you into believing ill luck and strange innocence’s when all the time she has very disturbing reasons for visiting.
Beware, okay? I’m telling you straight she will give you sleepless nights.
Yes, yes, I remember the morning she arrived, the rising July sun spreading across the Scottish hillsides. My idiot dreams all intact and flowering. That was the exact day I opened my hearts door. Love walked in, the beggar girl, the monstrous child, how little she cared.
I was never really in control of the undertaking. I was simply dragged from room to room and in each found there some new glad adventure. There were days when I was content to stretch out on a pallet of straw, beguiled by her impossible voice. How little she cared.
She took advantage of my weaknesses, coming as she did to the sound of organ music, amusing me with lightning and thunder, disgusting me with stinking early morning mouths, blood shot eyes, and semen stained sheets.
We lived on the beach of faithful children.
She brought me the spoils of long walks, misty rains, castle walls, and golden chains linking the stars among the powdery blackness. It was on those evenings she brought to me the crackle of a rosy fire, her heart smouldering against mine, and together we ate our fortunes and desires.
She came to me when I was just an adolescent and left me more a boy than I cared to be.
That’s the thing about her. She will go away. Either you will leave or she will. That’s when you acquire the cold taste for churches. Ropes strung from steeple to steeple, teasing you with thoughts of a forever together.
Priests, as fat as fish, marry you but it is an incomplete education. I’m no more than a castaway raising a sail on some distant pond as I make my metaphysical voyage to understand her absence. There is no understanding. There is only acceptance.
When love comes into your life, dressed in red, flirting with your needs and desires, treat her respectfully. Make out of anything the stuff of fortunes and dreams; you’ll need them if you’re to keep her breath smelling sweet. Don’t dawdle in clouds or lie down on beds believing time is on your side; it isn’t.
But that’s all over. She’s turned away. I drift over memories as if some taste will happen on my tongue. You see love did not dress me up for the eventualities but left me ragged and momentarily afraid.
Devotion is a killer.
I’m done with it. I will dance alone no more. I have cast out old love, spat the spirit on the sidewalk, and I’m heading for the beginning of time.
Come to me from always and we’ll go away everywhere.