How…

Heartbreak is the only reason to keep on loving

Or trying to find love where there is no pain….

Or finding patience in pain because pain attracts healing and cures

And forgiveness becomes a reason to be hurt again or an excuse you can use to justify why you do any of it…

Sex is how you explain it

Because words can’t and no one seems to speak your language when it comes to things that matter

And since sex seems to matter you make it a matter-of-factly type of means of communicating when you can’t

And it seems that you never do

But you keep trying…

Trying to make love to make sense to make something better because the thought makes you feel good

Or a memory makes you feel good

Or a fantasy makes you imagine that it will feel good

And maybe it does, if it does, when it does

But it does absolutely nothing to change anything significant

Because sex is definitely not significant

When it comes to love

It just magnifies heartbreak

And makes things difficult

And different

And makes fools of people who think that they are smarter than love

Or heartbreak

Or pain

Or anything that requires you to surrender possibility to the probability

That you will inevitably feel absolutely nothing as it overtakes you

Blame it on the chemical avalanche that rushes you and depletes you of rationality…

Yes, it’s a mess

Trying to fix broken people with broken means, things you picked up from other broken people,

Who are just being

The truth is that you only want to when you have no choice but to and that will only make things seem more important than what they really are until you realize that the only things that matter are the things that don’t mean enough to distract you from what gives you a chance to love

Without questions

Or sufficient answers

Or expectations

That judge mistakes

And circumvent adventure

With the chance to wait

Your soul doesn’t care what happened nor what is next

It cries out to give its best

To illuminate from behind the desk

That contains all of the files you’ve amassed and collected and repeatedly over-checked for where you could have done different

And maybe some type of map that could lead you from this prison

That holds you hostage and forces you to listen

To the sound of echoes that beckons you from assumption

Your memory only knows where it once was

Not where you’re going to be,

Heartbreak is the only thing that will make you able to see,

Just how foolish it all had came to be

Until you care enough to remain at ease

And breathe

The real sigh of relief

That makes you free.

-see

©2012 Cornelious M. Flowers III