Four Hours

More for the sake

Of the child

Inside

Do I hesitate

To embrace

You

With the full force

Of what I feel.

I would

Lie, limp,

In your arms,

And allow

Your power

To engulf me

And penetrate me

Until I was full of you,

Were it not for

The bruised heart

Of the fairy-tale princess

Who sits on shattered dreams

That I still

Must tend.

If this could be

Heaven on earth,

If these are

Tears of joy

That clean my cheeks,

Then I am powerless

To prevent

A piece

Of my history

From taking shape.

If, once again,

I have mistaken

Hope for truth,

Lust for love,

Need for want,

Then history has

Only

Repeated itself,

And life is

Kicking me in the gut

With a lesson

I refuse to learn,

And I will slowly

Slip away

Before,

Or

After,

I take

Another hit.

The pure heart

Is incapable

Of exercising

Caution.

That's all I've really learnt.

(Los Angeles, September 2009)