mosaic musings

I can always love my past loves

putting them safely in boxes

to fetch them

when I wish to make a connection

long lost

but possible still

through things

that remain

love’s residue is also love

not a sum of parts

but a whole in itself

i cant quite separate

each one 

and measure

if it counts

this cannibalistic desire 

for canned jars

of lovers

turning to wine

Stirs in the attic of my stomach

where with each year

a knot loosens

and a line appears

on my face

reminding me

that this one-sided

adoration

is all I have 

Quite like a life measured in “coffee spoons”

someday, I will look back

where they all are neatly arranged

in no special order

but each in its special place

the only place

where I could bear to have them

forever

this mosaic sculpture of my design

I can always love my past loves
reminding myself of Porphyria’s lover
a pathological toying with form

but evading patterns

always moving closer

to the continuous present

of love

and
being