This petulant love
Breathless in its urgency
Painful in its disregard
Standard for the times
So Sinatra smooth
It makes me ache inside
But it comes with consequence
With a kiss quick mentality
Leaving behind traces
Of light, and dark, and shadow
Cobbled together like stone
Six-eighths and forever
But only lasting a moment
As quaint as that seems
Like a faded photograph
Yellowed at the edges
A copy hoping for rebirth
But finding decay instead
Where we used to tumble
Where we used to lie
When the lying was good
And the pieces were whole
Left behind by an apathy
That makes me wonder
If I was just being used.
My Poetic Muse 