before the smoke curls

it’s all changed, somethings are better,

somethings are worse… it’s a happy little curse,

always someone new to love,

angels fall from up above…

i wanted nothing more than the last love to be that

the last,

lasting,

but gone soon after the first tasting,

the plate was full and the oven is empty

no one is baking up a beautiful dream for me

to taste with this tongue,

the memory has just begun…

a steady love, give me just one.

eric desselle