Honesty Pants

In a world filled with hearts that only run hundred yard dashes
It is no surprise
Eves stop believing in Adams like Pheidippides --

Perhaps love is a marathon
our disbelief has cheapened into a chase.

No one needs another love poem.
It is the one rule in my creative garden of Eden but sometimes
the only voice ink obeys is the low bass of gravity,
falling
as it spills upside down
onto silence.


So this is an obituary.
For what we buried when we broke it.


I have seen Eves choose their men
Like they choose their fruit.

Forbidden --
Truth quickly forgotten.


Her lost soul always stumbles back to the foot of his bed.
Where convenience triumphs over unconditional
When loneliness trumps a full house of love.

Athens is a distance
She has never known any man to run
To find her.
She believes the lie that she is not anyone worth discovering.