Poem – Page 56 – A (wise) man of two faces

Fortuna

I met a woman,
the kind you cannot ever
bring home to Mother.

Your love reaches me
like waves breaking upon a stone –
you wear down my rough edges
until I am smooth.

The night in her eyes
completely obscured all of
the sin on her lips.

Will you search for me
or will you leave me alone
to howl in the dark?

It’s hard to have character
without being a character;
how else can you make a virtue
out of a vice?

After I am gone,
who will remember me and
the warmth of my hands.

The right way is found
not on meadow ground
but deep in the wood
lined by thorns, tipped with blood
of those who tried to go around.

Who will remember
all the lost and lonely souls
which the world forgot.

Gold-haired little girl:
now you like the attention
but that may well change.

What do you say
at the end of the day
when it’s just not enough,
when you’re just not as tough
as you’ve always prayed?