LOVE, THE WAY IT USED TO BE

LOVE, THE WAY IT USED TO BE

Isn't it sad,
To miss the way it used to be
When love flowed soft and lazily
Straight from you to me.

And isn't it a dreadful waste,
throwing it away for just a taste.
A tempting morsel from another's lips,
The beckoning sway of another's hips.

And isn't it a dreadful guise,
That I seldom see behind your eyes.
It comes as such a grand surprise,
Those moments that I do,
See you real and true.

Isn't it an awful gas,
Like two ships in the night we pass.
Felix and Oscar, pissing in their separate pots,
Lights that flicker out and stop.

Isn't it a dreadful riot,
where once we talked there's only quiet.
And now the rain comes pouring down
In torrents on the thirsty ground.

And isn't it a lively blast,
To find you once again at last.
To feel your kiss, warm and free,
Flowing straight from you to me.
Love, the way it used to be.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED