No Love Here
And he doesn't really love her,
Oh he calls it that,
But his love is more like using,
Stealing pleasure at her expense,
Taking rather than giving,
Leaving her to do all of that.
She has spent so much time giving,
That in recent days she has tired,
Of being nothing more than,
A blow-up doll, or puppet,
Left alone and in need,
He ignores with excuses.
To him she has become just parts,
No longer a whole person,
He lavishes attention on what pleases,
And ignores the rest of it,
Mind, soul, body, all fractured,
A shell, which is desired, but not loved.
And she has slowly let go,
Of all that she dreamed love was,
And is left with shards,
Which cut deep and deeper,
Splinters rubbed by terry,
Wounds salted by inconsideration,
Taking what should be a loving,
Emotional and physical pleasure,
And making it a form of torture,
Which leaves her heart barren,
Wishing for things she can't have,
And places she can't travel to.
No Headstone Yet
I stood there over your grave,
I listened to you speaking,
The words barely made sense,
Your mouth was moving,
Yet I couldn’t seem to focus,
The ground suddenly yawning,
Opening before my eyes,
To take you away from me,
And suddenly I was alone,
The grief was overwhelming,
The knowledge you were lost,
Made me want to crumple,
To the ground beneath my feet,
Then your voice filtered back,
Into my ears like the sun,
On an icy morning in January,
Leaving me with a knowing,
That someday I would feel,
What I had just experienced,
In that one horrible moment,
A time when you would not be there,
Speaking to me in hushed tones,
And I would be left to suffer
Alone forever without you,
Knowing that it was my choice,
Dying inside, until I die outside.
However, for now, I am still here,
I can still hear your voice,
I can still see your face,
I can still feel your hug,
I can still read your written smiles,
And all these things are welling,
A bubble inside of joy and laughter,
Even so, there’s a tomorrow coming,
That is a weighted fear preying,
Upon my subconscious mind,
Of that time when I will be left,
One lone candle standing in the dark,
As a great horrid storm blows in,
Flame flickering and waning,
until the candle just goes out.
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STOPNo Love Here...I felt that. I admit, i am not one for poetry but I really have to just say YES to that.
Thank you! Love it when someone who isn't to poetry finds a message for them in a poem of mine. Means I'm doing my job. Thanks so much for your comment!
And your re-steem!
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