And sometimes

The heart

Grows cold

A distant

Drum thumping

In the

Chest a

Stiffening of

Muscle love

Is not

A thing

Or person

It’s you

And while

It may

Cool it

Still warms

When sitting

Close there

When a

Child and

Before reading

You saw

Pictures and

Thought a

World then

A miracle

Happened and

You knew

Words which

Now paint

The same

Pictures you

Saw before

Life is

Too short

To care

About things

Instead care

For each

Other things

Tend to

Stay but

Others all

Too often

Slip away

My life

Is about

Love maybe

Lovers in

The night

Yes but

Love these

Men that

Make me

Ache and

Feel some

Make me

Giggle while

Others make

Me cry

It’s the

Lost loves

I love

The most

They make

Me remember