Callused

You’ve done this now so many times
She does not feel the pain;
Her skin’s grown tough and hardened
Where you’ve scraped it raw again

It’s not the fact you disappoint,
For much worse now is true;
She’s come to think that everyone
Is just as bad
As you

balanced

there was a tension always there
and both of them could feel it;
they did the motions, every day,
but neither could conceal it —

for now the thing is at their door,
the truth that needs admitting —
and what’s so finely balanced as
two hearts that feel

like quitting

By The Waters of Loneliness

It’s cold out here but worse inside.
And I have got no answers –
I hurt for you, my love, my pride,
But I have got no answers.

Still —

I wish I was a healer who
Could mend relationships, and do
A magic spell to patch our past
And you and I would soon outlast
The couples passing by, who’d see
Our open suitability
For long-time love, and long-held dreams –
That wouldn’t end in heartbreak.

But here its cold, the sun’s gone down,
And I have got no answers –
No questioner nearby is found,
And still I’ve got no answers.

Yet —

I wish I could bring back the days
And nights when you and I would say
That everything we’d ever need
Or want, our covenant and creed
We’d find in one another; where
The starlight meets the cool fresh air
Our love would last, and never die,
And wouldn’t end in heartache.

But cold and lonely flows the sea
The spray kicks up and covers me
And I have got no answers


 

(“By The Waters of Loneliness” – 12-4-2013)

it was supposed to matter

when first we came into this room,
the “we should’s” and the “right here’s” flew;
then time came by, and laughed her laugh,
and went her way before we knew
how little of her we could get
before the shadow long hopes hid:
it was supposed to matter, but
it doesn’t and
it never

did

Common Stories – 1

Once, they fed each other cake,
Now, all of that seems surreal —
Once, they felt each other’s hearts,
Now, they each can barely feel

Anything for one another:
Anything but pain and grief —
Once they dreamed of one forever,
Wow. Forever turned out to be

 
Brief

Countertops

Once it mattered, countertops,
We chose, we chose these countertops,
Back then we decorated, and
These choices, well, they mattered —

But all was so precarious:
Relationship, vicarious,
Just perched upon a countertop,
Until it tipped

And shattered

Counseling

The wallpaper in that office
Has a pattern,
And so do they.

He says
If she really loved him,
She’d see how hard he is working
And appreciate him,
And that he needs to feel appreciated;
She says
He began breaking his promises
The day they got married,
And has never stopped breaking them,
And that he doesn’t really see her
At all.

No one “wins”
At couple’s counseling;
But when you feel no sympathy
From your partner,
It is natural to seek it
From whomever might be at hand.

But a counselor is not an arbiter,
There to lay down a judgment
As to who is right and wrong,
They are more like healers
Whose guidance may be heeded
Or not.

Locked in a pattern can be
One of the hardest places in the world
To escape from;
And they would have a better chance
If they could work together.

(Of course,
If they could work together,
They probably wouldn’t be there.)

People want better,
But wander into inevitability;
Patterns become prisons,
And those prisons become
Places people sentence themselves to

Where voices are raised,
As they stare in opposite directions
Towards brightly colored wallpaper
That might have been used
For their children’s

unfinished

 
rooms