A dark poem of loved, now, and long, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
March 20, 2004Early Notebooks
The one who loved is now long gone,
a soul departed, a life withdrawn.
Returning home to face his bride,
a ghostly shadow by her side.
He stretches out to feel her touch,
yearning still for the warmth he’d clutch.
Hastening for that peaceful lust,
but finds only echoes, memories turned to dust.
Her face, a haunting, lingers there,
a silent prayer in the midnight air.
Love once lived, but now it’s bled—
for the one who loved is truly dead.
Yet he reaches, desperate, through the veil,
aching for a kiss that’s grown pale.
A lover’s touch he can’t reclaim,
lost in shadows, whispering her name.
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