Over Shortly Before It Began

Don’t tell me, I already know -
I’d rather hoped it didn’t show.
I didn’t want it to be so:
I didn’t want it to be no.



Too Much

When too much is not enough
dark blinds shutter out the truth:
tonight’s lubricant
becomes tomorrow’s rust.
I wake once more to find
my own self-myth, adrift -
lost all at sea, again
on a raft of misplaced trust.



Terms and Conditions

Grief is a thief
Who with a heart-punch steals your breath;
There is no lend or borrow
When it comes to dealing sorrow -
Love is uninsurable
For reconciling death. 

Eve Best

If you have any thoughts on these poems,  Eve Best would be pleased to hear them.