villanelle.
It is always at night that she is startlingly awarethat he left three months ago. She heaves a weary sigh,
her hand aches to hold someone who is no longer there
to wipe away the worry lines and tousled bedhead hair
from her forehead. It's lonely dusk that most makes her cry
because it's always at night that she is startlingly aware
that he is not coming back, despite every sleepy prayer
to the contrary. God, she cannot comfortably lie
and her hand aches to hold someone who is no longer there.
She swears he exists in the space between her fingers where
his once were, she's dizzy, dazed, and wonders why
it is always at night that she is startlingly aware
of mortality and love and night skies beyond compare,
or why all the roses in her garden always seem to die.
Her hand aches to hold someone who is no longer there.
He is three months gone and still she cannot bear
to make his side of the bed. Her bloodshot eyes are dry.
It is always at night that she is startlingly aware
that her hand aches to hold someone who is no longer there.
Poetry by signed.
Read 1251 times
Editors' choiceWritten on 2008-04-19 at 04:08
Tags Villanelle Death Love
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Shanmugam |
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Elle |
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Kathy Lockhart |
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lastromantichero |
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