I miss you both.

Tirelessly.

My Sweets.

Under the guise of circumstance be:

One Dead

Other, heads.

Like a toddler's attempt at tag,

you chase at me.

So straight to the grave-

deep grievance in my heart-

Reside- Sweet.

Love still, it beats-

and sweats in,

Near exhaustion,

From the effort and the heat

ever emanating from the fire beneath.

Both, left from me,

Beyond- from you choice after choice

and feat after feat.

Let down, it pours on me.

Let down, it comes,

Mercilessly.

She.

He.

Dead in defeat.

Dead.

And, still yet,

I reach.

Vacancy

Remedy me my gray skies

Sunshine.

Vacuum out the dusted dreams

Light

Left behind.

Your channel is set

to my TV station

where white hope and dark visions collide

along a landscape

We both ascribe.

More than or nothing less than

Your Demise?

Oh, heaven sent demon

Oh, godly love-

all but you have been romanticized, but yet

Forgiven.

How simply

divinity is held close

beyond reason.

Needed.

Raped of permanence

but still not forgotten- in some purgatory

of Sentence.

Banish me somewhere

Closer.

Some other place where less is understood.

Not someplace to sneak between

but yet relish in

the Exposed place.

Left.

waiting.

Apology accepted.

Demeaned meaning,

to some other, lesser place

where

the Pomp and Circumstance of it all

can peacefully reside in;

My love, loved and yet

still loves.

Faithfully.

Dutifully.

She demands nothing less, but all the more-

he Scores.

Note by note, he, perhaps,

as my orchestra and your Sweet Orator,

was written for us both.

Oh, my love is My Love.

I demean your interference

into those sacred spaces

held in Other's places.

But, tonight.

Tonight.

Tonight.

Grieve mercilessly.

Come find me.

I am somewhere, lost in and

underneath the shallows and

regrets,

the fine space between

Pomp and Circumstance.

Lifted.

Left.

It's Mine, too.

Big day today, not the huge 30, though, so I am in the clear for a while longer.

Last night was a tough one, but have arrived at some peace in the way of that. Two years ago yesterday marks the passing of a dear friend and it has been a trial of acceptance. Love to her and her dear family. I know we have all been at different points on the same road and I look forward to the time when we all reach our space of peace again.

Two years, tomorrow.

Two years, tomorrow,

Uninvited, but in full-knowing,

The day approaches.

And, in my arms I nurse the alternate ending:

Act Two: Scene One:

You live.

All that I would share,

Regretfully, too much time since passed,

Much has transpired.

And, in my mind I believe somehow you achieved.

The End: (no Epilogue found.)

Two years, tomorrow.

Unfortunate. Never able to

Make it up to you.

If There Was No You

Another great song. I guess there are like these musical themes to my weeks. I am trying to write more, but I have a chorus of another variety filling the room and I need to attend to that before trying to sort out my own thinking.

Some Birthday

The present was presented.

All tissue-wrapped

bow-tied mystery;

Packing-tape sealed perfection.

Butter-knife sliced

sugar-box complete;

No greater feign forgetting.

Pink champagne haze

Reminded, I fell;