The Hallowing of Hollowing

The hallowing of hollowing,
A process I know well:
I filled myself with nothingness,
And grew too proud to tell –

I thought my sorrows justified
The moments that I stole;
But then, the truth intruded on
What was left of my soul —

I know the emptiness I’ve lived,
I feel the keening lack –
But now, my eyes have seen the truth:
There is no going
Back

The Fog, The Rain and You

Regret has a way of staying with you.

Music and words can block out sound
But cannot block out thought;
I drive and drive to clear my mind
But don’t find what I’ve sought

It all surrounds, envelops me,
The rain, the fog, and you;
I cannot see, I cannot hear,
And nothing that I do

Has saved me from the blinding truth
Here in the fog and rain:
That you and I will never,
Ever,
Be the same
Again

The Holidays They Never Took

The holidays they never took surround her in the night;

The many reasons that she found to not do what was right –

The beach they never walked on, with its still unopened shells,

That she must see alone,

For he’s now there with

Someone else

The Ghosts of Memory

The night is full of ghosts, but not
The kind that you can see;
It is the sound of your regrets,
The ghosts of memory

The sounds of laughter, once, that your
Desire turned to tears;
The crying that turned angry, as
You dirtied with the years

And sullied everything, with all
Your selfishness and pride;
You close and lock the doors, but you
Cannot keep them outside

For everything you’ve ever done
Is there on your account:
And though asserting innocence,
There’s really no amount

Of justifying you can do,
When you are faced with ghosts
Who know the truth about you, and
See through your idle boasts

And straight to who you really are,
Alone there, with your shame:
There’s no one left to argue with,
And one left
To blame

A Distilled Moment

He lost her long ago, he thinks,
And she was lovely, soft and sweet —
But somewhere there, amid the drinks,
She left and said, “I won’t repeat

This stupid hope I have that you
Will love me like you used to do.”
“It’s true,” he thinks, “that came to pass,”
Then pours himself another
Glass