Head Scratcher

It’s a head scratcher,

a mystery to me,

a riddle,

like math or basic

automotive repair.

I don’t get it.

I’m baffled by the

affections of those

lovers around me,

their connection is like

trying to catch mist in a sieve.

How’d they do that?

I long for the investment of

someone’s heart, their thoughts

lingering on me just as my thoughts

linger on them, an unhealthy mutual obsession,

clothed in sanity.

Is there a store I can go?

It seems insane to me,

this repetitive cycle of curious

investment, inquiry and appreciation,

to be misunderstood or awkwardly

rejected after a short time.

Who drew these blueprints?

It stings. Although I’m not supposed

to let it show. I just have to be tough

and keep my hurt, disappointment and

longing under wraps, muted and pretend

I’m still optimistic; when I am not.

It’s pretty confusing.

I’m told I’ll meet the right one,

the one who’ll “get” me, who’ll

understand all the madness and

wade in excitedly with arms outstretched,

and plant a sloppy wet kiss on my lips.

Maybe not so sloppy.

I’m getting to old to sound so

much like a dopey, love sick

teenager; and maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe I’ve been so jaded by those lost loves

that I can’t even recognize it now.

Although it’s not really obvious.

No flirting, no fun, no awkward encounters,

leading to romance, no late nights spent

up till dawn exploring the things that make

each other tick, no. None of that.

I don’t get that.

I get sleepy these days.

I suppose I’ll just continue to mourn for the old

passions, those long-extinguished blazes

of hot love, bubbling with excitement and

opportunities to be something for someone,

and be someone’s something.

Still…, a real head scratcher.