splattered

for her, there were his hands…

for her, there were his hands

always moving
making or fixing
caressing or 
filling her with desire

their lives a painting
with his portions
done with those fingers

colors of passion
aggravation and regret
splattering, smearing
constantly
everything

he left his life
splattered
all over her

then



he left his life

 

(“Splattered” – 6-9-2015)

Counseling the Disconsolate

So, I talked to my house last night
‘Bout how all they’ve been feeling;
Since she left home, they’ve been a wreck
The whole place has been reeling

I asked the toaster if it missed
Its morning muffin mess;
I asked the shower if it craved
The soft smell of Caress

The bed sheets said they wished
That she had stayed them warm to keep;
The teapot said it missed the oolong
She’d put into steep

I counseled them each, one by one
Until I reached the last;
Two angels on a music box
I gave her in the past

They asked me why she had to go
“I’m sorry, Oh, I am —
She left because
She married someone
Who’s not worth
A damn.”


 

(“Counseling the Disconsolate” – 12-4-2014)

Wayward

“I’m sorry,” – I heard that,
But then the rest was hard to hear –
“I should have told you months ago,” –
And my mind raced with fear

“Bye,” her sad voice said,
And then the voicemail ended there
To leave me hanging on
And questioning exactly where

My stepdaughter was now,
And what had happened, knowing she
Had once again resurfaced
From her life of misery

Her drug addiction demons
Having driven her away
And us not knowing where she was
From day to fear-filled day

And now this message. Broken-hearted,
Aching for my girl
Who, cast away, unhappy
Languished somewhere in the world

When softly, gently I heard knocking
On my study door
And opened it to find her there,
Much as she was before

As she threw arms around me,
And as many tears were shed

“I’m home now, daddy,”

“Welcome back.”

Like my heart –

From
The
Dead


 

(“Wayward” – 11-9-2014)

The Pines

Among the pines we walked; we were in love –
The sun was streaming through the boughs above –
Our hands were clasped together by our sides
Out in the place where happiness resides

And even breathing did intoxicate
Us, stopping constantly, to share a kiss;
The moments between moments seemed so great –
The shining sun looked down on all of this

Just peeking through the pines to see us there –
Two soon-doomed lovers, as he knew we were:
So thoughtlessly we wandered, me and her,
Two lovers in the morning forest air

And though, this sonnet now, I may enshrine:
He pines the most, who lives but to repine


 
(“The Pines” – 7-21-2015)

It Doesn’t Matter Anymore

It doesn’t matter anymore,
The “she” that once was everything;
It doesn’t matter anymore:
It’s time for what the new days bring.

It doesn’t matter anymore:
The plans, the dreams, the arguments;
It doesn’t matter anymore:
For she is gone, to all intents.

It doesn’t matter anymore,
The words that don’t add up to jack;
It doesn’t matter anymore:
There is no point in looking back —

It doesn’t matter anymore,
But I’m still grieving, I confess:
For she does not care anymore,
And I do not care any

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