Disappointed, aren’t we all,

so this is why they call love a fall.

The pain and the anger and the relentless failure

to meet expectations and standards and parental favor.

Frustration simmers, now just above, now just below the surface,

hear it in voices, see it in faces, feel it in every embrace.

And I wish I could make you understand

what it means when you merely touch my hand;

and I wish that somehow I could be enough

to uplift you, protect you, stand firm and tough

in the face of a life full of sadness,

disappointment, depression, and loss.


Maybe we are one big mistake,

relationship built for its own sake.

I know there are roads that for me you’ve forsaken,

bet you’d be happier if one of them had been taken

instead of this mess of potholes and speed bumps,

this twisted path on which we’ve both taken our lumps.


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Filed under Love, Poetry

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