Chess and Wine

I feel insane,
I cannot think.
I cannot be poetic tonight,
I could afford a drink.

I pretend well,
I give myself that.
And let’s be honest,
I have tried to separate,
Red from white.

But but but but but,
I know I know I know.
My insanity will show,
for insecurity has been my tent,
for over 25 years or so.

I have loved once too often,
and cannot love again,
and although I’m straining,
to lie to me,
The pain kicks in again.

But not this time,
I’m used to pain.
I guess I will be hurt again,
It’s not like people love the insane.

And so it is,
My story red,
Where emotions roam,
and silently tread,
Upon a few moments,
of desires dreamed of,
yet impossible,
from what I know of…..

For what is love?
A childish game?
Or something you yearn for,
In the depths of your heart?

It doesn’t matter anyway,
Since deserving it,
Has sure been,
One heck of a bloody task!

Sure, everyone loves bodies now,
That’s a different story to tell
One I wish not to tell,
One which is silent,
and sadly emotionless,
Well, at least for them.