Erstwhile Love

Erstwhile lovers who dare to tread
Where fragile hearts are made of lead,
Soon learn the lesson - they aren’t God
And leave no print as proof they trod
Upon the hearts of those less strong,
The ones who cry, “He's done me wrong!”

Hurting-hearted lick wounds not marred,
Nor tramped, nor burned, nor slashed, nor scarred.
Their hearts are swaddled in folds of steel
To protect them from what may be real.
Hurts are long, and old, and deep
The Present knows it must not creep
Where Past has lain a sorry claim
Lamenting o’er a missing name.

A name that lingers on lips gone cold
By a story rewound and then retold
By the one who holds old memories close
And buries joy in songs morose.
Gentle hymns of what-could-have-been;
Angry songs of that-was-then.

Another love will free the bound
And once again, bliss will resound
In forever-after songs of grace,
And a smile will thaw the frozen face-
Until a reminder of what is lost
Renews the shimmering steely frost.
And another lover will join the masses
Of fragile-hearted lads and lasses.

That heart will soon feel bands of steel
Enveloping it so it cannot feel,
Imprisoned by what is long-dead,
Love and longing forever wed.
The erstwhile lover, the eschewing heart
Become as one and never part.

Until some brave soul scales the wall,
Shakes the structure, makes it fall.
Winter melts on untouched ground,
Spring rejoices and trumpets sound-
Summer’s kiss brings love alive,
But an Autumn of memory is revived.
New love is shattered and must retreat,
To begin the cycle that will repeat.

Erstwhile lovers will dare to tread
Where a fragile heart has turned to lead.