The Streets of Love – A Poem

Somewhere in the depths of solitude
There’s a searching, a seeking,
An endless pursuit for meaning
Among the daily rendezvous with silence
And the lonely morning hangovers
From drinking too many shots of unrequited love
The night before.
There’s Tylenol for a headache,
but what do I give my heart?
How do I treat this pain
From parading down Main Street
Putting on my best show every night,
Yet only performing to empty streets
And vacant sidewalks?

Once upon a time I wished upon stars
But the veil of darkness has smothered their glow.
Night is now a cosmic sea of black waters galaxies deep.
No longer is hope revived after hours of sleep,
But staggers out of bed like a wounded soldier
With an ailment that has gone untreated.
My hope is not yet defeated,
But is down to its last stand
And is backed into a corner of surrender.

Somehow it seems my time has passed.
I feel like the school boy who wakes up late
And misses the bus, sprinting out just in time
To see it carry his classmates away.
I stayed at home the day the rest mingled and played,
Discovering their partners.
Love has swished me around in its gullet on more than one occasion,
But refuses to swallow, hacking me up and spitting me out again
To wallow in the remnants of its saliva and digestion.
Is my taste not sweet enough?
Or am I missing some tang?
My heart is burdened by the pangs of rejection.

I do not need another to define me,
But my masculine desires rage within my loins
And seek fulfillment and release.
Until this need is satisfied
I am afraid inner peace is out of reach.
Naked. Starving. Ravenous.
My hunger feasts upon my thoughts.

I am lost in this lonely night
And trek across the land
Hoping to find another unfortunate soul like mine.
I yearn for intimacy –
To taste a feminine spirit and savor her juices on my tongue.
But now I lie among the vagabonds and migrant drifters
With endless winters that leave me without shelter and cold,
Shuffling alone through sleepy towns and foreign lands
Searching for a home wherever I can find it.

But cardboard boxes and bridge overpasses
Are no place for relief and asylum
From the weather of the world.
There is still faith that one day I can unpack my suitcase
For the last time and warm myself
By the hearth of another’s heart.
But until then I remain homeless –
A hopeless romantic just trying to survive
Living on the streets of love.

-Poem Written By Justin Farley

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photo credit: via dei funari 2 via photopin (license)