, , , , , , , ,

Let me close my eyes
for in the silence of my soul
there is no need for lies.
As the city exhales
the exhausted stories of today,
I just want him to know
there are so many things I want to say.
But I can’t,
not behind this closed doors –
his closed doors
that marked the end,
to a forever that’s been rend ….
And now I’m here, out in the cold
grappling at things left untold.
My heart is breaking
into tiny indiscernible pieces
scattered hopes and wishes
drifting to nothingness
fading into emptiness.
And his absence cuts through me.
I can’t see, oh God, why can’t I see?
A future without him … I need to find me.
I need to breathe and be free
of him — the light in his eyes … his smile.
I know it will take a while
before I’ll forget the softness of his skin on mine,
the sinewy weight of his limbs as we lay entwined.
I know someday I’ll be fine,
and I won’t remember the sound of his voice
or how beautiful,
so heartbreakingly beautiful he looked,
when he made that choice.
The world spins.
The sun sets and the moon rises.
Night turns into day.
The city sleeps and awakens
and this heart that was once forsaken
will surely beat again, scarred but recovered.
Ready for life, ready to live, and rediscover.
I know, I’ll wake up one morning
smiling while thinking
that life courses along
even down avenues of former longings
where my old love is walking by.
And I will be happy,
that he is out there
laughing and smiling without a care,
that he is well and good.
And that in all likelihood
on that day, I too, will be doing well.
And I’ll turn my back and say farewell
to him and his memories.
I’ll probably remember our story,
but I’ll take a deep breath and exhale
for it will be okay, I have prevailed.
All is well ….
Now, I just need to breathe and cope.
And hold on to that vision of hope,
that on that beautiful morning
the sun will be gloriously shining.
Life in the city will be moving.
The day will be flowing.
My heart will be beating.
and I definitely, so definitely,
on that day
will hear myself singing.
Image was taken from slate.com