a wall of tears
though it does nothing to quell the flame,
they hide behind
a wall of fears
that echoes the sound of your name.
its inlets and tributaries
that venture to you
and from you
are stained red from the wine you spilled
though it had no color.
These hands, these arms
as they hold and surround you
though they mean to provide you peaceful solace
they only seem to confound you.
This silence –
this silence though it may be golden
it is not always consent;
mere empty promises that keep me beholden
to words, like a coil that is wound
betraying a silence that does indeed
have a sound.
I lay my head upon this pillow,
I am consumed by thoughts of you;
when you used to lie next to me,
your arm around my waist,
drawing me near..
Our hearts would find their rhythm
and beat as one.
Long moments later,
my eyes finally find their way
to that place of dark slumber;
where there is no pain,
no missing you.
that side of the bed
is full of books,
and memories of you.
The chill in the air lingers,
and it takes longer to get warm..
I patiently wait for darkness
to envelop me,
to warm me,
to soothe me..
like your arms once did.
the same dream every night..
I am in the ocean of your eyes,
standing upon its jagged rocks,
fighting the wind;
and I hold up a lantern,
in hopes that it may guide your way..
“I said to my soul,
be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.” ~ T.S. Eliot