She with uncommon sincerity became free
when white darkened to pastel, black lightened to gray;
by then it was too late to save me.
She with a gesture commanded me,
as over time it was found out about me,
I was as in love as a man can be.
She, with a smile, had soothed many three A.M. fears,
but the careless achieve uselessness easily enough;
and such uselessness revealed reduced me to tears.
She, without me to encumber her, is traveling
to some other ‘might’ work which probably won’t;
some unlikely emigrant of conscience unraveling.
I, with the circular sleeplessness re-occurring,
another unremarkable seasoning
in the soup of confusion I keep constantly stirring.
She, and not me, wanted different nighttime air,
she, and not me, colored long wasted years blue,
wanting finery she felt she’d earned the right to wear.
She, with the proudness of the true beauty about-to-be
has sailed on to the day after tomorrow, like in her dream;
only this time she has sailed away without me.
-
Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: November 9th, 2024 01:19
- Comment from author about the poem: Geez, does this guy ever write about anything but lost love?
- Category: Love
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments5
Very emotive words Dan but love will be with you I am sure.
Andy
there aint nowt wrong with the topic .. makes my own losses feel so much easier to contend with .. & masterfully crafted too sir .. Neville
Half of me admires the self deprecation, but the other half of me finds it difficult to relate....
(I mean well; you go well...)
I could feel this emote. Love the poem, Dan! Bravo!
I really enjoyed this poem, it touched some raw nerves of my own, Thank you Dan
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