Category: Loves lament

Fall of the first leave

Not til today did I truly feel the chill that is Autumns ascension

Hot tea did nothing to warm my brittle bones

And I found faint envy of the sure footed blind child I spied

For I was unsteady


And trying so very dearly to keep tears at bay

As I walked on alone

I broke a promise to myself

And looked back


Breaking my own heart


Estella, revisited

She turned her back to the rising sun and the song of the crashing waves, sea salt stung her eyes and spray clung to the thin cotton of her shirt. She swayed with the gentle weight of the waves bouncing against her tipsy frame. The night had ended, if it were a film, this is where she would have turned her back towards the sea to find herself alone, the music would come up and the credits would role. He would have long since walked away, for having finally had his say after all these many years.

But this was real, and she knew that she must walk back to the waters edge and say more and hear more than she thought could bare. She had begged him earlier to lash out at her, to finally spill his anger upon her poisonous path, and with each sentence, she urged him to further. When he had finally come up for air, she had tears, but not for what he had said, but for all she had done, and all she could do was look upon him and say ” We are who we are, people don’t change “, and with a weary sigh, despite the many horrible things that she was, he wrapped his weary arms around Estella, and whispered sadly into her ear ” you are forgiven”.

Those were the last words he ever murmured to Estella, for he finally knew that love and forgiveness could never repair what had broken within her long ago, and that his own heart could never survive any more of her. If only he were able to hold tight to the fleeting wisp of a flicker of hatred he once felt towards her, for in loving her, he would never be safe.

The rain had abated, she stood beneath the lamplight, taking random drags upon her cig, wondering if there were any significance that her left earring had broke, what could that have meant?!?

The fella she would have spent the apocalypse with had gone to take the dirt nap in the bone orchard, what left did she have?!?! How is it that she could make her life count for the both of them? Where was her car??!

The night breathed humid upon her and her scars, those both above and below, knowing it all too familiar in the pain that ebbed and flowed in her in her strung out, hung out veins.Such the legacy he left for her, all to familiar pain, the grief of love and loss, that was her life lesson, was it not?!? Her constant companion in this awful hour, to always be the one on the other side, having to pick up the pieces in the final hours, holding loved ones close and maintaining a vague sense of calm amognst the calamity of death. This legacy he had left to her, to run around the universe looking for that which she did not know. Death always leaves her lumbering in slumber, seeking the answers to the questions she hadn’t been able to hear over the constant low, slow moan of the death rattle.

For she knew the time was NOW, to break away from convention, leave the childish comforts of wounds behind, move away from the familiar, towards the unknown. To see what lay before her in the faded glory of all she had known, and all that he had gifted to her and to strive towards all that await her.

He had promised her Prague, yet, she chose Philly, it’s a P, so it counts, right?!? A place to redesign her life, her soul, a new chapter in her sordid story to tell in years to come.She was both brave and crazy, isn’t that the best intro to so many great stories?!? The gal who did the impossible, who sold her soul for the sake of adventure and poetry, and wished to be something more, yes, that’s who she wished to be, the legacy, the summation of her, for she had so much more to give, receive, and to be.

17 years

In these days of reflective heartache, I am wistful for the simpler days, before my world became so complicated. There was a time of splendid isolation that kept me safe. I was always a solitary soul, very adept at being alone. Keeping company with very few, but they were my constant, and they were all I needed. Fears of the world we live in and life in general kept me on the fringes, where I was somewhat comfortable.

I wasn’t unhappy, not lonely, just woefully awkward. Bound in routine, everything in its place, and a place for everything, I carved out a gentle existance. Keeping a safe distance allowed for twilight strolls, random evening drives with music as my copilot, long nights of writing and happy suppers with the few I dared to care about.

The dearest of them all was Ian, my best friend. We were a riot of a whirlwind, not a moment was mundane or insignificant, we made it all count. We radiated and glowed, a glorious bundle of laughter and love. Together we grew up and grew into ourselves, with him, I found what it was to truly be friends, to trust, and to love, and to be loved. No amount of tears or fears could have ever kept my heart from growing so large with love and admiration.

For a good many years, my every day life included him and our endless shenanigans.  Both dreamers, we believed in each other in ways most never dare. In him, I found strength, love does that you know. And together we made the world shimmer with anticipation. I suppose when you are young, you look about during a moment of delicious perfection, and believe with all your heart that this is how your life is always going to be. For so long, we felt that to be a simple fact.

We had 17 years of loving one another ferociously, time and distance held nothing on our hearts. East and West coast, we cared not, for we knew that we always had one another. Failed relationships, careers and artistic endevours, they meant nary a thing, for we were always each others biggest fans, he made me feel as if no matter what, that I had always grabbed the brass ring. 17 years sounds like a large number, but it isn’t, for me, now, it is far too small, for I was so certain that we had an eternity, and then some.

I got the news on a Monday morning, and I always say, good news always sleeps until noon, I know this to be true. Ian had gone from sleep to take the dirt nap in the bone orchard, and as I screamed and cried and vomited, I was certain that before the  longest day were to come to an end, that I too would die, from a broken heart. The news spread across the continent, and I felt many other hearts lurch in grief.  I was surprised the world didn’t drown for all the tears that were shed. And I hated the world around me for going on as if nothing had happened. I wanted to scream to strangers smiling, throttle the birds for singing and shoot the sun from the sky for being so viscious and cruel to be shining. I wanted to smash things, beat my fists till they were bloody and make something, anything, hurt worse than I. My grief was so large and selfish, but to me,at the time, it was a testimony of this deep undying love, and the enormous hole in my shattered soul.The tight grip that took hold of me held me low to the ground, unable to truly breath, waking from my scant slumbers awash in tears and sweat, finding claw marks upon my shoulders, where my hands dug in tightly in the attempt to hold myself together. Each day was a new flavor of suck, and they dragged on, taunting me. I hate how hard it was for me to see past my own sorrow and properly console the countless others who ached just as terribly.

We all scrambled to find all the many who knew and loved him, to share the terrible news, to wrap our arms around one another as our legs buckled, and to hold dear to the spirit of this fine man.  It was here that I came to see how his love had formed me, how he gave me a glorious map of friendship to take forward. To be aware of the very many friends who worried so dearly for me, wanting to some how quell this endless agony, I was humbled. I had some how become something other than the frightened mouse that kept all at a continents length. Through Ian, I shed that old lizard skin, and become rather human. He often marveled at this, chuckling with delight to know I now had a full dance card, and to know he still yet had the top slot. I never saw it happening, how one persons love for me could spill over and out of my soul till I found myself awash in a vast sea of fully formed friendships. He always gave the most grand gifts.

Two days ago, I placed a daisy next to his ashes, for daisies were his way of saying I love you to me. And that daisy was entombed with him, for you see, try as I had, I was not able to keep him here with me, safe, as I so arrogantly assumed, but I was with him, forever.

I feel him with me, in every moment, in song and sunrise, in quiet and moon glow. The gentle grace of his love will carry me through, till the sound of his whisper in my ear, “sweetheart” is no longer a figment of my imagination, but that which shall bring me from here to there, where he surely awaits, so that we may one day be together, to play cards with Audrey Hepburn in heaven.

Never to have thought this day to come

One above and one below

Perhaps to never reconcile complete

This enormous wound of you

As I fold into my grief

I dare never whisper goodbye

To the one who taught me hello

Hands held, searching for human comfort

In a time of celebration and sorrow

You breezed through my heart

To them materialize

A butterfly through stained glass windows

A whisp of hope through tears

A promise of life, even after passing

You came to flit amongst those who gathered

To comfort

As you always have

And forever shall

You are my heart of hearts

The giving tree

And I have been told

It shall never get better

But different

And I have no say in this matter

Though I promise, my love

To live enough

For us both

The Long and the short

There are no words

For this loss

My heart hurts a new way

Each day

And I hear you in my ear

I find you in song

You are lyric and melody

You are my heart

Please stay

Love Eternal

I may drink of every drop of sadness and without you, I am still yet nothing.

There not be enough tears or years to keep me from you

I was always the solitary soul

And now I must place you amongst my table of angels

Trite to say how you taught me to love

Forever to keep you in my heart in song

Why must every wrenching lyric seem your sweet, meloncholy lament

You shall forever be my North, my South,my East, my West

My Sunday rest

The void that no amount of sunshine, wine, or slight smiles to ever fill

Each sonnet of sorrow and love,

My heart bleeds,

I hear you

The art of losing

Though my heart knows the art

My soul yearns to learn

I have lost many things, never to return

I could never bare to make the list

Or speak it all aloud

Lest my soul crack at the fault line

And if I fell in


I would be lost

Though I may not be the poet of dreams

Of whimsy and lark

And my heart be not ever dark

For this love untold

And soul unsold

I come to you


As a flower

She listened to the sweet, broken, meloncholy voice singing above the swell of the orchestral strings. Smoke tendrils twirling towards the far reaches of the window screen. The lamp lights all twinkling illumination from the remnants of the evenings pale rain.

A jostled, stained bottle of pinot noir  carelessly placed upon the window sill, no desire to restle with the formality of glassware. Her weary frame leaning towards the slumber of the angels.