Drawn

Sketches of shadows six degrees below the horizon like civic dawn
Like a scarecrow pretends to see over the crops sown
So lovelorn on its own
Even though surrounded by a field of  ripe corn
Just as the world is full of allure
Still I am never certain
Never sure ….

Infatuated by all the beautiful people
I suppose that justifies the few encounters with no sequels
Only one night stands
Between that which I paint to be perfect
And that which makes me surfeited
A thin line is therefore drawn
Between love and lust
So until I can distinguish one from the other
Day will not fully manifest and I will forever seek clarity.

© Heath Muchena, 2009



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