There are types of young love
that must be broken apart
For either or both lovers
to survive
Like alcohol to the inferno
their temperature gets hotter
Until nothing is left to share
except scorched remains
With no net to catch them
they fall into each other
Tumbling and hurling
like a flaming ball
A hunger unsated
devouring their passion
Their souls trapped and burning
—in the fire they share
(Westborough Massachusetts: April, 2018)
-
Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: April 3rd, 2018 18:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments1
Kurt,
A fine truthful and realistic write! Have been tumbled and hurled a few times! Painful indeed!
~Laura~
Yes, I think we all have. I once asked the great Mississippi Blues
Man, Son House, what 'Soul' was regarding music. He answered
me....
"Kirk, you can't have no soul till you been hurt by a woman."
That was 47 years ago. I didn't even mind him calling me Kirk.
Still true today.
Thanks
Kurt
He was spot on...
And let’s not forget the reverse...
It’s definitely still true today!
It sounds like he was a fascinating man...to say the least! I would have loved to have been at one of his live performances!
Did you meet him at one of his live performances?
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