The Aftermath

The Love


I'm in his arms and I think of your touch

The one on my leg in the car during rush

Hour traffic goes by, and you're not by my side,

I'm left here begging and pleading the tide

To wash you back to shore, to be forevermore

To be with me in this life once more

But I know moving on is what's expected

I know what we had never resurrected

And this fucking tragedy has me crawling

In ways so cryptic, it's  appalling...

I'm in his arms, and I think of you

He's no lover in the way we loved smooth

Rough and competitive, he leaves me on my toes

When with you, we always knew what each other knows.

And starting over was never in the plan.

Starting over was not supposed to happen.

And what of us?

What are we to do?

I crave you... I still crave you,

You told me goodbye... not see you again soon.

What am I to do?

He can never hold me the way you do. 

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Starward's picture

I will probably have to stop

I will probably have to stop reading at this point, because it has become way too intense.  Much as I would like to read all of the tonight, I cannot do so.  I do not have that much energy today.  The verbal beauty of your poems demand the utmost attention.  Only a few poets have ever had this effect on me, mostly because I will not permit it for most of them.  But your poems do not ask my permission---they soar from the screen into my mind and even, I think, into my bones.  Gotta take a break . . . me, not you.  Please don't ever stop writing.

Enjoy effulgent days and exquisite nights.