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My ways are old. Time has taken their toll and torn me like wax paper. I see into the distance, looking outward, forward and back and still -- feel so lost. It weakens me, I think, this passion for self loathing, feeling sorry that I never asked you. But we are like that, aren't we beloved, drawn to false hopes and dreams of lives that never could be. Would that my heart were stone, that it might risk feeling nothing, but I was not made like that . . . My openness is prone to sorrow, prone to feeling too deeply about the love for a woman that once visited this mighty emotion of mine, still, longing for another to fill the void. But my ways are the old ways, my peoples ways, and there are none that move like that, anymore. I should have stayed there and kissed you. I should have kissed you.


By Johnny Sachu

© 2010 Johnny Sachu (All rights reserved)


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