Conversation is a dying art form.
It will soon be viewed in museums,
mostly passed by as an uninteresting exhibit.
People will move on to the portraits beside it
of picturesque beauty, with snippets of an ideal life.

“I want it all and once I have it, I want more,
unless, of course, you want to give it freely.”
It’s a catch and release sort of life.
“I want you until I have you, then want not.”

Don’t you ever get tired of the constant chase?
Isn’t there a hand you want to always hold?
Or is fear the only thing you’ll hold onto?

I have this large heart, vacancy sign lit,
but I am nothing more than a vacation spot.

They always come, but they always go.

cls09222015

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2 thoughts on “Passerby

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