crooner

the fallacies of old love songs,
a wish for return,
the tone of fault & longing--
brutalized by cold logic,
a perfect thing, cracked to verify,
is no longer such & never again.
to mourn the fragments--
there's only shadow left
& dim.
to simulate stigmata each morning--
everyone's a martyr
& not one a saint.

but the floating of old love songs,
the demure sweetness,
belief in a brighter dawn--
that is to crave, when the ground drags,
life in the cracks of the sidewalk,
crumbling beatitude seen only in glimpses.
to stifle sweet sentiment--
only terrifying rumbles
& more long stillness.
to sing a love song--
performing purgatory
for deaf ears.