got tired of journaling, so I wrote some poems. This one is about my feelings about closure.





For b.......a poem of closure

For though we still air
Some silly subtle things:
A SHMILY signed here,
A petname signed there,
A single M on e-mails shared

an agonizing truth has sorely hatched,
that what we once shared
can never be matched.
It would be truly unfair
another love to compare.

New lovers will enter
our lives, but in vain,
they cant reach our center
or know our true bane,
nor feel our raw pain.

Wounded hearts drawn tightly in
open their shades but the width of a pin,
keeping not just love out
but hiding it within,
unwilling to trust another again.

Weve been robbed of much more
than the heart of each other,
for along with the theft
went the willingness to offer
the same to another

Though the fighting is done,
invalidations gone,
boiling rage withdrawn,
its now transparent
that nobody won.

We find ourselves now,
with an uncertain end
dieing as lovers, trying as friends,
anxious to see
which way the road bends.

Will this road reach a fork
which divides us away
from the comfortable pain
we strove to maintain
in our love so inane?

Or could it circle around
And end in a spot
Where all is forgot,
where happiness abounds
and old lovers found?

It was Cruel Cupids trick
when he heartlessly dipped
Our love-arrow tips
into the sweetest poison
to ever exist.

The irony of our love is the cruelest tale,
that only a love truest
can inflict and impale
the deepest wounds
of a Biblical scale.

A precious heart can never be stole',
merely only offered with trust,
to be treated like gold,
for a soul mate to mould,
and return tenfold.

But our love did not stand.
Like water through hands
or hourglass sands,
it trickled away
according to Gods plans.

True love, like a soul, can never end.
we Two became One,
but One not Two again.
Just mangled half-fractions
divided remain.

All prayers have amens.
All stories have ends.
Weve made our amends
And Just as God planned,
Were parting as friends.

This may be the greatest love story told.
Its never been written. Itll never be sold.
Friends become lovers over the phone.
Lovers become soul mates as the story unfolds,
though it ends with two souls, buried, sadly, alone.

Two purgatoried -ghosts,
cold mourning souls,
strolling the globe,
in anguish they probe
for their true love of old.

But, maybe in heaven, I tearfully pray
when lifes debts are paid,,
well meet and Ill say,
"Its divine to see you. I hope you will stay
this time for eternity ,b......, OK?


*****
M
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