Sweet love
And how it sweeps
And how it depletes
And how i look into the eyes of new love
And see my own's defeat.
And then there's THAT underneath..
cynicism.
And how a love so sweet
Can become like rotting teeth.
Watching the joy slipping away
Now it's just barren...
I await, a return someday
Almost crazed and lost in time..
Looking over, and seeing the love just isn't there anymore...
It isn't what it was...
But still I await a sobbing mess
Everytime I mistake a glint of it still left...
...no...
no.., not left..
not really...
All that is really is I,
here,
alone to myself and god once again
even though there are two in this bed...
And i have to be strong here
And see what is meant to be
And not what i want a day more.
No...
But my feet are weak,
My heart tons heavy,
My mass, a dying mess...
For in the words of a wise friend today,
I finally got permission to mourn this death...
No labels or fears of how i'll be seen;
A mess of sorts is my right to claim.
A mourning time
"where too, plans must be made...
but you cry it out" he said
Understanding "the" ways...
And somehow the sun peaked
And a crack opened to this house
And the darkness that smothered like daunting death
is suddenly seeping through the window on out...
I am a wife,
a lover,
a mother,
a twin...
and growing, im seeing,
that I can't control love's spin...
Can't make it return,
or force understanding to reside...
Can't enable compassion,
If there's not a willingness inside...
Can't speak to be heard,
when hearing is not understood,
Can't force my love to return,
When it's become such a malnourishing "no good"...
There's so much I'd do,
and indeed that is what Ive done...
It is time for a new move..
A far more permanent one.
For enough i do know,
That Love is not truly lost...
a cynic in my time at hand
Is also a moment I'll pass.
My love will return....in a taller light than before
And i know i must just believe..
Because there is life yet in moving forward...
Sweet love...
My love...
And how i never wanted to let you go...
I see now, the only love,
Is to heed the passing flow...
In Dedication: To Kyra M. Anderson...
Thank you for your Namaste.
