I loved women long ago,
A time when I wrote poetry and songs.
I wrote stories about them, too,
Stories from my heart.
I dreamed of them in color.
My fingers dipped into paints, creating beautiful images,
Filling my dreams with warm memories.
I still think about the women I loved, and the women I lost.
I focus on their enigmatic smiles, their eloquent eyes.
Each with unique characteristics.
I keep the memories sacred, never blending,
Never forgetting.
Every woman was special
But one in particular caught my attention.
It was her fragrance,
Her way of pleasing me, her touch
That I loved so much,
The energy she used to keep us together.
Yes, but in some ways she was not so special.
She had one flaw.
She was jealous.
As I admired other women I found that
Each one desired to be beautiful.
Each loved from her heart.
Each had a fierce determination to keep me
In her spell.
Because I did not, could not select,
My dreams didn’t last.
My world crashed as one woman after another
Became disgusted when I did not choose her.
I didn’t want to become attached
And I lost my opportunities.

I don’t speak to women anymore,
At least in a romantic fashion.
I have no idea where they have gone.
They scattered to the winds.

There is one I still treasure
My heart aches as I picture her, and us,
Loving together, laughing as we planned our future.
I know she will enhance the life of someone,
But not me.
Too late I woke and found her gone.
Too late did I welcome her love.
She took my heart when she left.
I miss her but no one will ever know.

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