That Summer

 

Years and years of tearing hearts, 

Ripping the red flesh, 

a habit like biting nails due to arbitrary tension.  So hard, I tried, to find a love that 

 Called back like the ocean, waves of  Beautiful blue to call my own.  And how is it, precisely, that  Love came to me, that summer,  In a thunderstorm? I always  Look fondly upon such a love, that  Liked to write its own fate, its own Story; every drama, every trauma,  Every victory, every loss, it wrote an Epic of the organic nature of love,  Its will to transcend my frail soul.  So hard, I tried, to find a way out,  Suddenly intrepid of such transcendence,  Manic emotions overriding every decision,  The black plague, I had nicknamed,  And like the waves, I’d named at the beach,  A toddler making friends he couldn’t grasp Tight enough, she had gone. The beautiful  Blue eyes, the epic had changed its course,  Romance or tragedy? I’d always wondered,  How is it, precisely, that love had fled from me,  In a single summer, in the same thunderstorm.  How it was born, it had died.