I let it go when I shut the lid

Every time you touched me

I still want you, even more

As your cold hands graze my face 

You let it go when you saw her

Let me drown in cold seas, alone

I still want you, even more

As your eyes are closed, next to her

She let you go, once I let her

Cold hands and cold still hearts

I still want you, even more

Locked in a cold box with cold her

1. I have to

2. I need to

3. I want to

4. Because I can

5. It feels right

6. For him

7. For her

8. For them

9. For the children

10. To fall in love

11. To get better

12. To meet them

13. To be happy

I told you to forget

But you let your memory slip slip slip

Letting me trip trip trip

And down I went

Through the rabbit hole

I call my mind 

And I remember

I am standing at the edge of a cliff-face,

my feet planted firmly in the ground.

My hands tightly gripping at nothing,

as if nothing was, somehow, going to help me stand firm.

Wind is gusting behind me, pushing me,

pushing me, pushing with such intensity.

I remember the weight of you as you pinned me to the floor and how I felt less of a person at the loss of my person. You stole from a child and you were a man. How could I stop you?

The ground beneath me is crumbling,

as I peer over the cliff edge beneath me.

The waves begin to form.

I remember London - 'the big smoke' I remember the call. "Everything is okay" Of course it is, I thought, then I caught the first coach home.

My best friend resting his head softly on a white pillow as the stench of day-old blood directed my eyes to the wound in his head that exposed his brain and my pain as I lost mine.

The waves grow but I stand firm,

un-phased and smiling still.

My false face, unchanged, hasn’t noticed,

that I am now closer to that edge. I hold on.

I remember the five years of solitude. The rusty little key that unlocks the book of my heart so I can pour out its contents is kept only by myself.

The cliff is leaving me now but I have not fallen.

Instead, I have constructed an arc.

A bubble surrounding myself,

it’s delicate walls seem so easily broken.

Inside there is a breeze-less calm.

Serenity.

I float high above an ocean in turmoil. 

Towering waves typhoon, twisting and crashing,

a torrent of emotions sway my tormented mind.

But... I am safe. This bubble has kept me safe.

I float peacefully away from foaming giants beneath me.

I feel... untouchable.

I remember lighting the wick. Burning the candle at both ends. Trudging down a path I never should have taken. Searing a new route is no easy task when dragging the burden of times that just weren't right. Losing a passion.

That last shift. 

Sailing home I could feel the winds of freedom,

escorting me there; when in front of us,

suddenly, in the middle of the road,

a car is turned over a women screaming.

The ambulances, the fire-fighters,

the unrelenting tiredness,

that engulfed my bones and my brain.

When I finally got home I deserved that bottle. 

I slept like a log.

Until the next morning; my first day off.

I remember thinking "who rings this early?"

I took the call.

My mother shrieked.

My body crashed into the bed.

My brother is dead.

and I am floating now but the waves are so strong.

So violent that I bring myself higher and higher.

I am imprisoned in a bubble I could pop with my pinkie.

Only, bursting it would mean braving those waters.

Feeling those things I have so detached myself from.

Fear holds me in this bubble. I had not noticed,

that all the good in me has been draining out slowly.

Mixing into those waves I fear so much.

I am calm but I am detached, I am losing myself,

and the only way out is to let myself fall.

As I write this I am locked in internal debate,

and the words I use must be forced out,

because they have emotion.

I must not feel emotion.

And if I fall into that ocean.

I could easily go under.

I could easily lose.

As I lost so much before.

I should feel sad.

I feel so little now,

but I still remember. 

You're the gaping hole

In my once flawless life

The crooked eye in a portrait

That just doesn't look right.

You're the word for an emotion

That can't be described.

A feeling so foreign

It feels like a lie.

You're the tears that I've worked

forever to hide.

Now, because of you

I'll never stop crying.

You're that feeling when love

has no destination.

They say death is the beginning

A new life. A celebration.

But I don't want to smile

When he can't smile back.

My heart beats with life

His? Stagnant and flat.

I'm jumping.

I'm flying.

I'm crumbling.

I'm dying.

You make me unstable.

I don't love you for that.

They say time heals all things.

But you're one thing it can't.

Dear Grief, how I hate you

But I welcome the hurt.

Cuz without it, I'd feel nothing

I'd be empty. I'd be dirt.

I'll miss him forever.

Life won't be the same.

But hope keeps on growing

It's a hope without shame.

I'm glad for the sadness

It proves I can love

Maybe grief's not as evil

as I once thought it was.

(I wanted to enter this poem into the ProseChallenge #67, but the entry fee was too high for me to afford. So, I guess I'll just post it on my own and hope that people enjoy it.)

In solitude I roamed a mist shrouded path

where thick icy fog swallowed every faint sound,

a victim of loss, and it seems, heaven’s wrath.

In my heart a sharp pain I had carefully bound;

numb feet took me deeper into the damp gray

as if some enlightenment, there could be found.

I stopped near a spectral tree, kneeling to pray.

in answer there came to me only deep gloom;

in anger, I’d cast my faith blindly away.

My wife and child, lost before new life could bloom.

Alone now, consumed by this unending pain,

the fog encased silence reflected my doom.

No solace would my shattered heart now obtain,

as slowly I choked on this black, evil grief.

Ah! Trapped in this lonely hell, I would remain!

The pain in my core had dissolved my belief;

now, without my family, I’d nothing to lose.

If God was in heaven, then he was a thief!

From all of mankind, why would my loves he choose?

All hope has been lost in death’s poisonous bath,

the future holds naught but bleak days and gray hues--

with no way to vent all the pain my soul hath,

in solitude, I roamed a mist shrouded path.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

** This form, the terza rima, is one that was made popular by the Italian poet

Dante Alighieri, with his classic poem The Divine Comedy. I have found it a great way to tell narrative stories to the rhythmic cadence that is metered poetry.

Wind springs from dust of her pith

celestial vault of robin egg blue

color of her eyes, lidded and heavy

her free spirit infinite but fragile

reflecting on rippling ponds of her life

drifting husks shed and floating free

heart flinging off pangs of yesterday

lingering peace and rapture form

the ultimate seduction of whispers

In silence, her open soul follows

cascading light pointing to answer.

If I laugh

At a calf

The whole staff

Thinks I'm Daft

But the giraffe

Keeps a graph

All on behalf

Of the riffraff.

I drink a cocktail of moonlight, full of your memory.

Sitting idle as you intoxicate my blood.

You pump through my veins like a tantalizing mix.

Drenched in the dreamy night sky of wet lust and tingling love.

Left with the sweet after taste,

of the moonlight at midnight.....

We all make mistakes

Speaking words that we wish not say

Can't take back actions committed

But each morning we have a new day

Each day is a do-over

We can correct errors from yesterday

Everyday is a new chance

Each night we disrobe our day's mistakes and toss them away

As we get out of bed each day

Hopes for that day arises

Everyday is a new opportunity

Be strong for life's surprises

Hope springs eternal

Everyday is a blessed gift

A chance to do things better

That premise should give our spirits a lift!