It never hurts less. It never "goes away" faster.
The gnawing knot burning in the bowels of the belly
Is that where the heart has fallen? The heat of the unrequited effort
a molten lava organ
searing its way down to the epicenter
of the soul
the stomach sickness
the churning and twisting
the absolute agony
of every memory
every sweet word
every cherished fingertip graze
half-smile
soft snore
cute quirk
all are sharp echoes
stabbing
and
stabbing
and
jesus christ am i bleeding
it never gets easier. familiarity does not bring speed to healing.
the emptiness a hollow of a wound deep and dark with no suture available
or even capable
the gaping pit heaving and undulating, whimpering and whining
crying and spitting
and hands grasp the outer folds
trying to bring it shut
clasp it together
self-soothing
tears in the darkness
while scrambling for anything
to seal the cavernous
maw of pain
so indescribable
fading in and out
how pretty the haze
it helps
remembering when
remembering when
remembering when
head on the lap
a quiet afternoon
the swell of new love
the surety
this is it
we were lost
we have been found
we are everything.
late movies,
staying in bed
curling bodies
big spoon little spoon
face to face
interlocking
unyielding closeness
the screaming and ripping torment of sentimentality brings everything into focus immediately.
but had it stayed that way...
had it stayed that way.
this is not new, but i wish it was.
i could fool myself into thinking
"it will be over soon."
Category: Sad Poems
The Second Death
I am once again mourning the loss of
What Could Have Been.
I have already gone through the grieving process of What Was
the death knell had been knocking,
knocking
knocking
and not quietly at that
there were moments when I thought perhaps we would pull through
the odd flickers of burgeoning life
peaking through the sickly nights
maybe we were not terminal
perhaps there was a chance
we could make it
we WOULD make it
a passing
dwindling
hope
as we continued the road
to expiration
the optimism of idealists
is the first bloom of
false spring
when it is still clearly winter
As our pulse faded
our breath slowing
to make way
for the
Death Rattle...
My tears had long since dried
The Acceptance,
a soothing balm
after the
initial shock,
the frustration fueled discussions
that circled
circled
circled
until they collapsed us into
a depressive heap,
the bargaining
for another day
another way
another chance...
The End was ultimately
The End.
I am comfortable with our passing.
Now I grieve for all
we will never be.
It is a second excruciating death
Far worse
Than the first.
This Tuesday Maybe
you can help me move that dresser out of your place
and into mine
the chest freezer can remain
just a while longer
weighted
with all the frozen meals
prepped months before
for our then
bright and splendid
future
This Tuesday maybe
I can swing by
toss a few more of my belongings
into some of my reusable
grocery bags
and you can watch me
brows scrunched
over your piercing blues
sadly?
with confusion?
regretfully?
with relief?
This Tuesday maybe
we can make idle small talk
while I keep my eyes
averted from yours
focusing only
on the task at hand
erasing my previous presence
from your home
one item at a time
I'll awkwardly joke
now you have your space again
and neither of us
will find the heart
to laugh
This Tuesday maybe
we'll want to give
or receive
a reassuring hug
a tender kiss
promises
that we can find a way
to make this work
anything
to make it hurt
somewhat less
but
we won't.
Not for the lack of
genuine want.
No.
Because lies do not suit us
and what remains
of our love
would never
deign to
lie.
YOU
I still miss you but not the You which is now what has always been I miss the You who looked at me like a newly budded flower on a seemingly dying cactus though I was always very much alive but I liked it the awe the adoration so I let it pass I miss the You who believed in betterment of self even if somewhat unwilling and it perplexed me a moment but I allowed it a slight stumbling block I miss the You who never meant or ever wanted to hurt me though you did and I let it happen because I saw potential galaxies we could rule instead of the handful of stars which to you seemed sufficient I miss the You who I knew you could be The Universe The All The Everlasting Therein lies the rub I don't miss You. I miss the idea of a You. you were never going to be You you... were only a fabrication of my heart's fantastical ideals.
resignation
i've come to accept that romance is best saved for my last dying breath
you’re not gone yet
your scent has left my linen and i can almost pretend there was never a person who shared my bed if only these miscellaneous mementos regretful reminders of you would stop popping up receipts a pair of socks a toothpick with the faint aroma of tea tree oil and mint random pieces of hard candy a puzzle you bought for all of us to do together shadows of you waning at a snail's pace
second place
giving an ultimatum the addiction or me was not my intent it was an act of desperation a move of futility the last thing i could think of to have a reason to stay because i knew all along just as the sun rises and as it sets i was never in the running.
When
When Breaks are Break-ups and there's no running from the truth When the love is there but neither has a thought on what to do When they try and they try because they don't want to lose it When the writing's on the wall but they plumb choose to refuse it When the words have lost meaning and silence becomes queen They leave each other, along with what could have been
But Otherwise Fine 