Six Moods

Why do you love me?

I don’t even love me.


The sunlight, with indecency,
Is touching these frail berries;
The dew is left
Upon the branch and grass —

The morning sun is smiling with
The promise that it carries;
But I am empty without you –
Alas


So much that had significance
Gets bent and twisted on the way,
Until we do not know ourselves
Or how we got to be here –

Your picture is across the room;
The you that was no longer is.
The me that loved no longer feels.
Am I still me
At all?


We all agree that love is great, but
Speak of it equivocally;
We charge the world to show more love
Especially those
We hate


Unhinged, a little, in the main
Unsettled, largely, in the brain
Unpopular mid humankind
Unable to escape
My mind


If I could paint your picture with my words,
I’d show the warrior who tends the sheep:
I’d touch you like a feather on your back
And help you sink into a deeper sleep

If I could love you like I meant to do,
It wouldn’t solve your problems – yes, I know –
But maybe, for a moment, you’d feel warm —
And I would leave before you lose
The glow


[My moods tend to change rapidly – maybe yours do too? – Owen]

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5 Thoughts to “Six Moods

  1. I have tears in my eyes reading this. I can’t point to any particular line, or a few, but the totality of it leaves that very relieving I’m-not-alone sensation. I haven’t been keeping up with blogs well the last couple weeks, focused on trying to heal, but I’m glad this is one I read. Thank you.

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