The Lives We Live

There’s the man at the corner of the street

Begging at everyone that passes by.

Would he like a house,

A wife and a car?

Or is he only praying

For one meal at a time?

There’s the man wearing the same old jacket,

Guitar in hand and a soothing voice.

Would he trade his soul to sing with Mercury

Or is he just happy in his mediocrity?

There’s the woman at the bar

With red lips

Who drinks four shots of tequila

And a beer.

Would she keep her quiet another night?

Or will she finally cry and realize he was gone.

There’s the man I loved once upon a time

Fading in and

 Fading out my mind.

Would he ever know I turned his love to pain?

Or

He still reads the letters I wrote to him.

There’s the Sun,

Icarus,

The moon

And the wolf.

There are tragic wings and the longing howl.

There’s the man with the guitar and the beggar with the bowl both missing a part of their soul.

There’s the woman with the red lips that quivers with all the secrets when she’s alone.

There’s me, you,

The October rain,

The lingering fingerprints and pain in the night.