Love exists, not
in a wishing well,
or playing hopscotch,
skipping over crooked sidewalks,
hoping for a smooth journey
while sinking memories
entrusted to the ice
upon which Amy skated,
catching air as she hit the floor.
A fool out of herself
that’s what she made,
questing for the person
facing her, but the fear of romance
danced in her palm.
She lifted her head from under the sheets,
dreaming it was with me,
or someone like me,
but Amy would rather have me.
Her insecurities held
her hostage to a forest fire
of panic attacks.
Forget the plan
and follow fate
lest we drown in a sea
of regret.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

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