Yet to Come

Opening the door I feel the kick of his stare.
Emotions flood over me, taking hold sadness, and resolve.
I stop collect myself, listen, feel the air.
Not allowing eye contact, not getting involved.

No matter how I enter his rage takes the lead.
I am alone and in love with one so far away.
His space has become much too small for me.
I know my presence causes him pain today.

I hear my screams so deep; the scars no one can see.
There are no good times for us to share now.
Long gone are the happy thoughts and good deeds.
Left are anger and other feelings so foul.

My hope has died; I match the feeling behind his dead eyes.
Faith in what was our enduring love gone, empty now joining his.
I know now how life, love, and even beautiful memories die.
Once relived time and again our fateful first kiss.

Shredded, trivialized, ripped apart piece by piece.
Taking with it faith in all I held high.
Empty, in pain, needing to find joy, laughter, some relief.
The hardest part yet to come; when we say the final goodbye.

May 15, 2006 Written by Becky Jo Gibson© All rights reserved