The afterwards of everything is wondering
Why tradeoffs must be made, and friendships lost,
And why the night turns silence into shadows
That touch the edge of passion turned to frost
The afterwards of everything is emptiness,
A strange reward for doing what is right:
The cold and quiet heart that’s ribbed with darkness,
The winner, who’s left sickened from
The fight
He’s asking today for the tangible ghosts,
The fungible fog, the tradable mist —
He’s wading today through the rippling bog,
Aflame with the thoughts of the lips he once kissed —
But all of his fancies go drifting away,
Like the clouds in his beer when the whiskey pours through:
He’s longing today for more tangible ghosts
Than the ones that still haunt him
When thinking
Of you
She opened up a single empty box
That held her happy memories within,
And saw the mere projection of her hope
That had become more real than earthly him –
She sat out on the highway of remorse,
And stared out at the blue and distant sea;
Accepting, underneath the glaring sun,
The hope she’d held was just
Illusory
[The author of this blog would like to assure everyone that no photo models were harmed in the taking of the attached photo, I think. – Owen]
her regrets, like the ocean
in their immensity and constant turmoil
surrounded both of us –
far too real to be ignored
because i loved her,
i left her ocean undisturbed;
because i love her,
i offer only my
acceptance
we who live
live with imperfect knowledge;
we cannot know outcomes
there we sat,
surrounded by the ocean;
here i sit now,
surrounded by my own thoughts
my friend:
i do love you.
and love,
like stars that hover
high above any ocean,
does not change the water,
but give us –
if only for a time –
something else
to look at
if I could bring the moments back,
the pictures frozen there in time,
we would be laughing in the snow
that now falls only in my mind.
for you were lovelier than all
this cold and wintered heart has known;
and i can see, unfaltering,
the love and grace that lately shone
from out of your once smiling face.
enthusiasm pure and clear
in moments that i treasure now
that you have gone
and i’m still here
This is a prompted post.
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
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 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
