Hard Hardhearted Heart (Hardy Har Har)

How many times in life do we fall in love? Some would argue only once and that we don't always spend the rest of our lives with them. Others would say there are many kinds of love and every time we "fall in love" it is different. What is for certain is that whomever we do fall for remain locked in our memories forever. 

Can you recall your first crush? 

Every new attraction is accompanied by certain experiences or features that seem everlastingly connected to them: A color, a scent, a piece of music, a geographic location, even food. These attributes are so specific and so intrinsically connected to the person that whenever we experience them again, we are immediately reminded of their connection in our memories. It is sudden, jarring, and vivid.

Every one has a unique signature; a unique trigger. Does every pair of lips have a unique taste? 

      

Hard Hardhearted Heart (Hardy Har Har)

Do I detect the perfume from a former devotee in the air?
Have you come to invoke memories from farce forgotten lips?
So overwhelmed!
You've stopped me in my tracks,
Now, do tell,
What is it you wish to commemorate?
This indictment.
This transient decline.
Fleeting, upon a gander,
A sight I've long since transmitted to behold:
A corroded path,
Carved in hence;
Prefix swallowed;
Lexicon rehearsed,
Carried off and found again inside a buckskin curse.
I walked into a cloud
Swollen stiff - like a drink -
Lunged into the past to find the chemicals I swore I tossed over the brink,
But no...
They linger in the back of my mind,
The posterior of a Joker's card.
Laughing to myself in reflex to a rediscovered sneak,
Slipping past myself that which I all along believed.
Suck it up!
Wallow in its flavor.
Savor every sour nook.
Fight to bight back at it
As you rediscover her captivating look.
Shook from your tiding -
Lethal dust dogged off -
A crooked crook
Resurfaces to return the stolen property.
The properties of love are fickle,
Fragile,
Flimsy,
Fortified!
Would it be too much of a burden to be plucked from my fallow field?
Would it be best if I protected you with a cracked and porous shield?
The one you took for a souvenir in that joust for our independence,
Our freedom from each other?
From our predestined pretense?
Ah!
It digs in like a bloodworm,
In a most soothing of ways,
With the scent of an antique store
And the voice of a grave.
Waft it!
Learn it!
Cherish now
Spiteful gestures I cannot flee.
A heart that has run through a few
Still drips with the fresh dew of lips
Within me.