three of swords
some say all that suffering
leads to something better
than sand flowing through
broken-hearts…….going forward
finally grasping…….love lacking depth
is no love at all
thunderstorms pierce my heart
pouring tearing grey clouds
and I count myself lucky
for there is no white bull
to charm me or climb upon
reckless abandonment
snared an emotional trap
that…….other…….love
and I’m still snivelling sadness
shedding loss…….lamenting
loneliness…….howling heartbreak
grievingly grieved…….healing upheaval
embracing destructive love
by letting go…….lessons from
an unknown…….third party rush
this shallow gal got hooked on
pain lacking patterns missing depth
because I didn’t see a clearing
path ahead…….true love
isn’t really encouraged
or even understood
making my eyes flood
down on me like rain knowing
there are jewels in teardrops
loves-superficiality verses nurturing
togetherness…….deep longing
didn’t work…….and we tried
fluff attracts like lint
on cloaking and we’re
all sold on addiction
romance addicts
not truly hitched
insecure romantics
bewitched with objective affection
he knew…….knows all that
old material…….things died
rekindled…….rebirthed deepened love
and its darned hard work
some don’t work at
unpleasantly getting through
readjusting disappointments
moving closer together
new ways of loving…….far removed
from neurotic love enshrined
in movies
I closed that door…….looked ahead
crossed an ocean…….rented a room
with a view…….for me
and didn’t look back
because my love…….is…….too thick
Ruby McCann is a creative practitioner who holds degrees from Trinity Washington and University of Glasgow. She has published work in publications, You Don’t Look British, Anti-Heroin Chic, Gaelstrom-1 Magazine, Invisible Cities, Poetry Scotland, Journeys, Word Rhythms, and many others. She lives in Glasgow, Scotland next to the River Clyde. Nature and walking inspires her writing.
Amethyst Review 