by J. Estelle Newlin
This poem is dedicated to the woman inhabiting my dreams. She is my hidden strength, and she herself has hit a wall. Thaim i gra leat, mo anamchara. Atleast I will always love you.
She could hardly believe what had happened before her eyes.
Her eternity slapped her in the face,
And even she could not put up a fight.
The trust she felt for her one true love,
Was swept under the door.
The love she felt inside her soul,
Became some pain she had never known before.
The tears she could see on her face in the mirror,
Mystified her indeed.
She could not believe she cried them so,
She never knew she could bleed.
So much of her vanished that night,
So much of her went missing.
She became a stranger to her self,
In the absence of one's kissing.
In bed she rolled to her side,
To find that spot unoccupied.
She caught herself trying to hold a hand,
That had long since vanished from her side.
She often turned around expecting him there,
To slip his arms about her waist.
And when her eyes met empty air,
The tears would flow in hieghtened haste.
So many night she spent staring,
At the bathroom floor,
Trying not to remember him,
Trying to cry no more.
And when she realized he was gone,
This seed of hate burned inside her.
But that love she still had multiplied,
Even though he didn't care.
And when the evening came again,
She continued her cruel game.
Until she could no longer remember herself,
Nor his treachorous name.
And she sat there with her eternity ending,
As her life ran upon the floor.
No longer able to live for herself,
Or to stomache life anymore.
(Copyright 2003 J. Estelle Newlin)