I loved you when you opened like a lily to the heat; you see I’m just another snowman standing in the rain and sleet who loved you with his frozen love, his second hand physique, with all he is and all he was a thousand kisses deep.

When he kissed me, his lips soft and careful, it was all the thrill of our first kiss and all the practiced familiarity of the accumulated memory of all our kisses.

We drag our former lover like dead poets into the future bound and gagged in the truck of the car because all pastloves are Dead Poets; who are unloved by poet lover now and we ignore their muffled cries in the rear; driving toward the future; tamping down the present with a finger dipped in past and jaded memory. We smother old loves put them away in the dark closet because New Love most often doesn't share our love of Former Poetries.

... i didn't fall in love of course
it's never up to you
but she was walking back and forth
and i was passing through

Well I've seen your flag on the marble arch and love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Money can't buy true love. Those promises. A real person who loves you, loves you from the heart.