Uncomfortably Numb

Many holidays that came and went
Empty days and memories
Echoed laughter as time was spent
Something I refused to see

Each time I knew the day grew near
I felt uncomfortably numb
To wake alone like all days past
And wish it had never come

Is it future yesterdays
Or maybe past tomorrows
I fear the dawn and what it brings
This overwhelming sorrow

I've finally seen what it was I left
With no friends or family
What it is that hurts so much
My life went on without me

As I Die

Let this time for parting be sweet
As love melts to memory
          As pain to songs,
And the gentle last touch of your hand
Soft like a flower
That only blooms at night.
Be still now my soul
My death is but completion
My lamp no longer lights the way.

And while I am gone,
In the depth of your hopes
          And desires
Exists your knowledge of the beyond
          Unacknowledged,
Like bulbs under the snow
          Dream of spring,
My restless breath now rises
          To seek God unfettered.

A Meal, Post Marriage

Alone,  at my breakfast table
In an otherwise empty room,  ruminating
The bitter taste her beauty held,
How that kept me in sway
And the loss of two castles
Each charming in its way
And missing them (but it wasn't a catastrophe)
Even losing her (the voice and gestures
I'd loved)
I shan't have lied, but the art
Of losing is not hard to master
Though it does look like (write it pen!)
Like disaster.

Resentment

Here am I
destroying my liver
and you walk about
as if nothing has happened?
This kombucha I keep
in a refrigerated heart
and sip from whenever
the compulsion fails to start
is nothing more than
an imagined hurt
a resentment no more delicious
than the dirt
I choose to feed it.

Dreams

But a dream or two ago
we'd trade a kiss hello.
But the scourge of dreams... ?
Soon I'll wake, and it seems
certain my tears will flow.
In a world of constant change
some things never do.
That's how it's meant to be
with the love I've held for you.

Fulfillment

Hatred, being a cage
of personal choosing,
is a consumptive disease
an act of volition
in losing individual freedom and self
while love, in all its prerequisites
requires lovers lose themselves
to find themselves
to become themselves

The Burnished Copper Girl

"Have you seen her,"
          they all say,
"The red-haired woman
          with the sexy sway?"
"Yes I've seen her",
          one man cries,
"The ultimate enigma
          with bright blue eyes!"

"She caught my breath,"
          one man speaks.
"I've dreamt of her
          in my sleep."
Her copper locks glisten
          in the light.
Her milky skin glows
          like the moon at night.

She owns the room
          but unaware
of the reaction she cause'
          or the lengthy stares.
With all eyes upon her
          women wish they were she.
Men all want the woman
          and wish they were me.