love

Thank You

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The Passion fine art nude oil painting

The flame inside

Reignited!

by a you I will never have

Is it enough the flame was lit?

Guess I either drown it out or

Take it

Well, I guess it don’t have to be you

But see Life can be a little cruel

In the way She spins her shadowy web

Light glinting off her teasing edge

Promises, promises – the devil’s breath

But, then again…

I learned a lot from you, my stranger-friend

Doubt you’ll ever know the True Effect you had on me

And so it is –

And so it be —

We all go on Not Knowing

Who we touched

Or just How Much

But this is my way

Of saying Thank You

Maybe in another life

It will be you

In a different way

Tangibly

(Oh to have you tangibly!)

Or maybe…

Maybe This was all that was ever meant to be

Though I confess

I wish I could tell you Everything

But at least I can tell you This:

And hope Somewhere Inside you feel it —

My heart-felt, soul-felt

Thank You

YOU ARE

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I am Radiance

I am the Joyous Dancer

Mountains still the dissonance

See your Great Accomplishments!

Feel your own Benevolance

They speak through me

To beg you:

Please!

Know yourself as you know Me!

I AM Radiance

And so are thee

Dance and Sing and Love with me

Be still

Be soft

Be wildly

Free

With This Loss

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With this loss

I’m at a loss

I cannot write

Or sing

Or cry

There is Nothing Left

But a memory

Of something I had hoped would be,

Fully.

Gone…

My dreams show me The Tragedy

That in my Living State I cannot see

Or feel

It would be too great a pain

Funny how the psyche works —

Kicks in like it does

Disconnects us from the stuff

We’d never be able to get through

Meanwhile, I type

But do not mistake it for writing

These are the apathetic, colorless words

Of a poet who is no longer a poet

This is the guarded, shaded voice of a person

Who will not touch love again in the same way

Because This State is not worth it

Perhaps you say

“You’ll move through”

Perhaps you are being kind but naive

One Door

Has shut

And you can be sure

That Door (for there was never another like it)

Will not be opened.

With this loss

I am merely a whisper of the person

I was.

The Choice

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Drunk on love feelings, oxytocin, and wine

They stumble, giddy, out into the dark night street

An “oops” wine stain on a white shirt followed by a giggle

As he offers “let me get that for you”

And his hand brushes her breast

A blush lighter than the wine spreads across her cheeks

Soul-gazing stares and “no one gets me like you do” thoughts

And the mutually used — over-used word — said to friends

“It’s like…we have this connection..”

The long make-out sessions where “we can’t have sex yet” she whispers

“Trust issues”

He’s okay with it

A gentleman can handle the Blue Frustration

And she sees this

So then, one day, they do.

About 3 months in – maybe 6 (if they’re lucky)

The buzz wears off and he starts to think “she seems pretty needy, emotional, complex…”

And she starts to think “he is closed-off, overly practical and frankly, kind of boring…”

They each long for that Original Night that seemed to last forever

Where everything just clicked,

Fell away…

And they saw only the Good Soul Essence

But it is a different night.

No more fantasy

No more drunken romantic-movie-like illusions about Princes or Goddesses.

They stand facing one another

Truly naked for the first time

Each one must decide

If they want to love a human being

Or an ideal

If they want the thing they say they want:

Actual True Love.

Want

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I want a fast car –

A Jaguar

And a werewolf-vampire boyfriend.

I want a close-up when I wake up

That shows perfect lush lips and long, curled lashes

As I slither out my California King in silk and lace lingerie

Slipping artfully pedicured feet into cashmere slippers.

I want to inhale imported Italian espresso as I pad to my pristine

kitchen —

The one my top-chef cooks in.

I want to look out my various-home-windows and gaze upon oceans,

And skyscrapers, and the Leaning Tower.

I want to wear buttery-leather skin-tight pants and stilettos that feel like flats

Because they’re made by Someone Fancy.

I want to be naked on one of those faux-fur rugs that feel better than the real thing –

All sprawled out in front of a glowing fire on a stormy night

Waiting to be seduced by my other-worldly boyfriend whose millionth kiss

Feels like it were the first kiss

Every Single Time.

I want the thick anticipation; the rich, shaky kind of energy to vibrate between us

Like Commitment was an Illicit Affair.

Instead, I sit in my 500 square foot apartment with the broken A/C

And wonder if I should make the effort to brush my teeth tonight.

 

Lovers Lane

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Well you were just a memory:

A fallen leaf off a winter’s tree.

And so I left you – blatantly —

There on the cold, barren street.

I found no more You for me –

A once-green leaf now brown and weak;

A final teardrop etched down your cheek –

Brittle, dying – you chose to sleep! –

Became the shriveled leaf in that cursed street.

If only I could have changed your mind,

Why, I would have made it so!

I ache to think how you gave in,

How your cracks began to show.

Then…Nothing More was left of you…

So Winter made it snow.

I could not mourn that haunted night

Nor those that passed by after.

I stayed frozen (to the snow’s delight) –

Feared the memory of your laughter.

But the snow did melt, ‘course the leaf was gone…

No trace You ever existed.

In its place the sweetest pain –

The pain I had resisted.

I welcomed Her now,

Wretched heaviness came —

From Winter’s numb to Springtime rain;

Perhaps with time, my love will fade…

My hope for an ever-after.

Now you are just a memory:

A fallen leaf off a winter’s tree

It was you who left me – blatantly —

There on the cold, barren street.