A new poem and one of my better ones. I hope you find its beauty both despite and because of its sadness. Sometimes the most beautiful writing comes from hurt.
I wake from you haunting my sleep,
telling me you love me but that it can’t be.
—You don’t though;
———–that’s a fallacy;
———————_fallacy my mind concocts
—-only to hurt me.
The whole dream, you never speak,
—-only write to me,
So, ripped prematurely
—I write you back what you’ll never see:
Of pain, proclamation, apology.
Mark my defeat in this elegy
—And I tell it all,
Here’s a man I liked before
—but he strikes no feeling from my core.
Not anymore; could he evermore? He’d let me
Greater awareness of what to search for,
—he can’t compare to what I came to adore
But he’s good at speaking
He asks again, am I sure?
–from my body, away my
—-My heart is numb
—-so it’s no longer raw.
I let him on me but could never think before
—how sex could seem a corporeal chore
And my mind is blank ;
In hours followed,
was there reality in that liaising?
—Thoughts waft above me,
Words turned a l p h a b e t s o u p,
I can’t see the thoughts
—–for the letters.
I’d hoped it’d help speed the healing
—but that only works with lesser feelings
—-too rash was I in dealing
——with this listless quaking keeling
——–of my hopes with
I was so sure, no more, be gone these letters!
—-filling sentences of thought
When will my brain free my heart
—-from such excess distraught?