Impossible

An open heart can be cut
And there also remains the great chance
That everything I believe and sense to be happening, everywhere
Is madness

It's happened before

----------

I gave her my contacts
The gesture hard for me, important,
An effort
But to her, this woman I don't know
The exchange, lasting seconds,
May have been beyond trivial
A soon to be forgotten encounter
With a quite obviously desperate older man
Not to be thought of again soon, or ever

And it hurts that she never gave me a chance
A thought?
I can never be sure with these things
Because humanness eludes me
Other peoples lives beyond my comprehension

Why do I pain over small things
Other men laugh about?
It seems a losing battle
I willingly, knowingly, fight every time
Forgetting the always disappointing end result

I fool myself into thinking "This time for sure"
And ache just the same, fresh
I should be proud to be such a fool