I don’t want to fall in love with a photo
Make love to a memory
See things for what they are
Reminisce about how things were
How I see you now
How I saw you then
Not as I imagine
In the moment I pretend
A point of clarity
The shape of my heart shifts
Sifted much the same as sand
No firm foundations
Just recollections
Heartbeats that we grieve
But we decide who to deceive
When not to lie, when not to breathe
For death is still a constant
As breath is overrated
We seek approval from the sun
Curse the moon, unsatiated
When to say enough’s enough
The loves we lose, the loss we choose
The cards we hide, and hands we show
Yet, it’s not just the loss, it’s the love
Without a place to go

You quoted Tolstoy in your poem
Could have done without it
Adding nothing to the quotient
What was said, what was meant
A heartbreak stanza, nothing more
Talking about yourself, not us
Still, your words hold resonance
Frequencies and circumstances
A modicum of chance reveals
What twisty smiles and winks conceal
One drink and you’re saying this
Two more and it’s this or that
Kisses flying off your tongue
Hips, lips, and panties flung
I fall too hard, it’s true
You say you do, but hold your ground
A force of will, a wall of sound
The scent that fools how we accept
Intoxicants like honey wine
Skewing precious memory
How I see you now
How I saw you then
Some lines to write
Of where and when

You sent some music… Sour Times
Portishead, I’m sure
Said it was your favorite song
Nobody loves me like…like…like…
Now I see Nobody was somebody else
Not like me, more like him
Kurt or Jim, some short name
You spoke it in your sleep
And said I was the creep
For listening to you talk
Seriously, you fucking woke me up
Dead of night, darkened room
We drifted off so pleasantly
A slice of life, reality
Emotions filled with candy rain
I kind of thought you felt the same
Imagination fucks with me
Speaking conversationally
Is this really poetry?
Excuse me, I’ll continue
Muster points of memories
I believed your body
Resonance of frequencies
The touch of inconsistencies
The taste of your goodnight
Reaching to turn off the light
Shifting sheets, white foundations
Feathered lies and consternations
Pillows full of syllables
Lines that we believe
Beathing in and breathing out
In my nose and out my mouth
But you know that breath is overrated
As love’s a word that’s overstated
And death is still a constant
Marker for a future moment
How I see you now
How I saw you then
Numbers, dates, and wedding vows
Secret ciphers, paper, pen

You left a card, a note of sorts
Veiled message; makeshift prayer
Ephesians 16:12, it was
No hope for us, no talk of love
Just wickedness in heavenly places
Traces of a wasted life
Husband, lover, mistress, wife
Keys to souls we trade for gold
Houses we pretend are homes
Secrets held inside our phones
Worlds of want we walk alone
Things we hide or think we need
Choosing where or why to breathe
But breath is overrated.
Have I not told you so?
And death is still a constant
Though we never truly know
How I see you now, how I saw you then
It’s not just the loss
It’s the love
Without a place to go
We are nothing in the end

TM DiSarro
©2026 TM DiSarro/ MindScapes Publishing
From New Book Five