An Ode to Sade

 
I tend to cling to things that want to leave
Teaching so called lovers how to love and they flee
I’m left in a vulnerable mess, often wondering
Is it me?

What do I lack in love?
What am I missing that you want to see?

Seasons cycle, loves recycle, maybe this is how it’s meant to be

You use my love as an escape and you retreat
back to the caves of faceless lovers
and other beings
that satisfy you for a moment
But ultimately they
Leave
For reasons unbeknownst to you or me
— —-

Is this just a bad habit or a need?
The need to always feel your warmth
again eventually
  
The need to reconcile and form another ending

As lovers, we become lost in the illusion of options

Thinking we’ll find better

Thinking every encounter will feel like a 4 page love letter
—-
Losing myself in you only to find myself in the same place—
On the outer banks of love
——-
In the comfort of silk sheets we find peace
Seasons cycle, loves recycle,
We continue to fall off and grow back
like the leaves