Worn and torn love…

Worn and torn love
                         -Written on 8 April 1985-

                        (For Angela. A lost and confused young lady.
                         I tries to pick her up and show her life was okay.
                         I hope she found peace?)

She never allowed me to understand her pain.
Pretending to be someone else.

Acting out parts like a woman in a cheap porno movie.

I’m sorry if she were abused.
Unable to untangle the disorder in her
heart and mind.

My life wasn’t always so organized and demented.

Her brown eyes,
looked into my eyes.
Tried to find one reason to stay.

I wrote a simple poem for her.

                   “Sweet Angela…
                   You are so beautiful and
                   you are cut so deep.
                   So young and
                   unable to run 
                   from yesterday.
                   Stay with me.
                   Awake in the 
                   morning with me.

                   Maybe we will find 
                   a  reason to be alive.”

She stand up,
slowly undressed for me.
I’m infatuated with her beautiful and young body.

She danced in circles and
she told me.
“I want to be a dancer,
I want to be a singer,
I want to be loved forever.”

She fell upon my bed.
I brought her close and
I whispered to her.
“The flesh is more hungry then the
desire to know love.”

In the morning.
We walks on the Seaside beach.

We sat together drinking coffee at the Coffee Café.
The quiet of the Seaside beach.
Leave us time to think.

We went  and sat upon the sandy beach of the Monterey bay.
She began to write my name in the sand and
she showed me my name surrounded by a heart.
She wrapped her arms around me.
Whispered. “Thank you.”

She told me.
“I’m twenty years old.
Disease and cold hearten.
Why do you spend time with me?”

I smiled.
Kiss her sweet lips and
I brought her closer.

I told my beautiful Angela.
“Love is not a secure bet.

The gift of the flesh is easy,
satisfying of the body is easily done.”

“Love takes at least a lifetime.”

                     Coyote
                    8 April 1985