Fluid hearts seeking out the future
A different one for each feature
They ever admired in face or form
And when one fails to keep you warm
You seek another, moving on
As if love never bloomed for the gone
Fluid lies flowing from practiced lips
Never once does the truth slip
Because the lies have more power
To keep close for one more hour
The one we don’t really want to keep
When night ends and we rise from sleep
Fluid forms never commit to a self
So take that scalpel from the shelf
And make the old into someone new
And yet, no matter what we do
We always become ourself in the end
Maybe we should learn to be our own friend
The first poem of National Poetry Month. Will one arrive every day? Only time will tell, so feel free to check back and weigh in....
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