fade…a clarification

dear friends…i thought it was important to make clear that this poem is a story, it is fiction and it has nothing to do with my day to day, loving relationship with my partner Scout and i. i guess i muddied the waters a little bit when i spoke about my momentary melancholy, it happens to me from time to time for no apparent reason. i just took the opportunity to put those feelings into words, and that’s what this story is.

so sorry if i created any confusion.
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this poem is meant to be read as this song plays in the background
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even in the small apartment they shared
he could now carefully manipulate his body
so that no part of him ever touched her in passing
in the cramped kitchen, reaching into the fridge
at the sink, rushing to get ready for work

as if her skin didn’t grieve
the absense of his touch, as if she
couldn’t truly remember when he didn’t need a reason
to press up against her, just because he needed to
as if her lips, didn’t miss parting for his

she’ll admit to being slow
to fully absorb, what had changed between them
or maybe it was just her easy nature again
smoothing over the rough spots
blaming herself, for whatever might be wrong

at first she thought
it was just another mood he was in, a phase
she would wake up any morning now, and this could all be gone
back to when they shared more than expenses and a place to sleep gone… without a word spoken about any of it

it’s not that he was unkind, and it’s
not that he would say things that would upset her, he knew better he just never said anything right anymore….
yet they both played their charaade in public, it was
when they were alone together, that the silence screamed loudest

in the dimly lit rooms,
filled with 40 watt bulbs and questions that could never be asked end tables crowded with yellowing memories, framed pictures of their early years together, smiles and endless chatter during their torrid romance when everything seemed possible

when… he said everything right, all the words
she ever dreamed of hearing from a man
all she ever imagined a man might make her body feel
and now he flinches, at an accidental brush across his arm
like her presence… is an imposition in his life

now, it’s a fear that grips her chest
when she dares to face the possibility of this truth
she’s learned… she takes comfort in the hollow pain
her loneliness a reliable lover now, she stays
because it is far less frightening, than what she doesn’t know . . .
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because no love should ever just fade…
there is no reconciliation in apathy
no healing in the cruel silence of ambivalence
an unsteady self is left shaken
attempting to answer questions that pleaded to be
but were never answered
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because love
deserves more than
a cowardly exit . .

repost Friday

dear friends…
because i don’t post on Friday and for
the benefit of my many new friends,
i thought i would dig into the archives.
this was my fourth poem after joining
20 Lines in April, it holds a special
place in my heart because it was the
first time a poem was inspired from
hearing a song for the first time.
thank you all so much *smiles*

many thanks to Sky Vani,
for sharing this song and beautiful video.
play it as a soundtrack, the words follow the tempo.
hope you::::enjoy::::
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her last page
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as early as her day begins, it ends
a sad memoir echoes in an empty room,
and she breezes
through her motions

…without a care in this world.
as if her love never really ended
wrote the diary,
the last page.

wide cupped latte’,
a quick croissant
and her habitual daily stroll
to every place they ever met.

she’s hoping without a prayer,
he’ll be sitting there as always
in his favorite,
corner chair.
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she chooses spools of woven thread
from the French village mercerie.
…that suggestive red dress
he always loved,

and it’s noticeable tear.
as if life never did really end
wrote the diary,
her last page.
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written April 21 2013
and submitted to 20 Lines A Day
prose and poetry challenge for April

digital misivs

 photo 20130423_122711.jpg

jacked on Marlboro’s and mocha java
she lives safely in her word cloud,
laying belly down with candy wrappers
littering the unkempt futon bed.

smartphone, notebook glowing
in that messy shades drawn room
and sometimes pink hair spilling
out a Neff cap covered eyes.

Skye, exists as ‘anonymous’
tattood and thin, small framed
her cool demeanor her paler skin
nothing touched her since he left.

and crossing paths in the gangway
with the new boy down the hall,
his immediate smile spoke volumes
he brushed against her as they talked.

but that spark its cruel reminder
of hurt she really can’t forget
her promise to call forgotten,
the spark was just suppressed.

Skye spent that night as every night
a private etherland of love
texting poems of lust her loneliness,
drift…digital misivs through the dark.

written May 2013
submitted to 20 Lines A Day