In a silent space
this overwhelming urgency,
a slow fade,
tears would welcome
While a man in a slow want
feels only a quiet
the remains of a memory
all but forgotten
keep him alive this sadness.
This is where acceptance
begins its longer pull
upon the reality of love,
there seems now,
only the choice already made.
A wanting desire to feel whole again.
It could be said,
I wanted to block the world from my pain,
if that were to occur,
in a sudden disappearance
no-one might care
to find compassion
in the scrutiny of a life
moved toward a remarkable
beyond all affliction.
the awareness of a wrong,
a dangerous precedent
will now move sensuality behind
the natural affection
of a lovely bond.
She is the beauty, such elegance,
I shall always know
yet forever pine.
The fragile nature of knowing,
the kind we like to deny,
that’s my world,
the crisp reality of burning flesh.
there is no matter of hope
the once brilliant scope
of passion, unbridled
desire in sweeping form
Is gone, felt in some waves,
a soft smile,
a similar glance,
quiet afternoon reflection.
All I can do is stave off
the tears that cry
the only name I can say aloud,
for the privacy of love remain.
I wonder how it became so crazy
that I can only answer riddles
in my own mind,
and they’re not nearly as satisfying
as a look in her eyes.
Only today, I realized
how easily I did
a quiet solace is my nightmare.
For it is in your hands,
the soft sweet sensual
nature of her demeanor,
a smile that fades in mind.
For it is when we do know love,
the ache inside our body
is enough to want to
stop the motion of life itself.
For it is in this my tears,
I try with all the strength
in my soul,
to understand the freedom.
For it will be forever,
my heart in its organicity
always bleeds a tear.
For it is the silent melody
of a broken heart,
with no mend,
only a haunting silence.
today, while fresh memory brought me a distance,
the shadows revealed loss,
hidden in the crevices of the world I live in.
I couldn’t have predicted such pain,
I wouldn’t know where to explain,
something I can’t tell anyone,
I sit here,
I’m crying, on the verge of some
loss of sanity,
I’ll not process this well,
I say to only myself,
because I cannot speak to you, I can’t tell you, I can’t find you,
I can’t hear your voice, your listening eyes, your spontaneity. I can’t.
I don’t know what to do,
beyond just slapping word after word here,
hoping somehow to find a gasp,
a reality of this mixture of ill and loss and some
my heart has exploded inside,
and all I can do is ask it to stop,
so the hurt will go away,
I need the hurt to
I don’t know,
in a way that isn’t meant to draw attention,
I just don’t want to live,
I don’t want to have to recover
I don’t miss
I miss you.
The barista looks upon his expression, the customer,
hasn’t any idea what might settle in mind,
yet there is of course always a wonder,
she, he, they, the people everywhere around,
haven’t a clue the loss of memory
occurs when love unrequited may no longer
hold a place in this our sweet dear fantasy.
An internal methodology exists when fighting
the pangs of a helpless love no longer asunder,
and instead far, very far away now,
to that greater distance where one two loves
might touch in a quiet night sky,
this evening the clouds have arrived,
there is a certain mingling beyond the mind,
will forecast only a denial of open sky this nigh.
I do love to know that our love is true, I always will,
I forever remind my quiet mind the patterned reality
that did our lives cross paths for reasons beyond our
own societal terms – there it is, there, we did … love.
I don’t know if I’ll
ever see you again, she
said, just wait a while.