Sad . . .
There is not a shred
of the scent of you
Left here, in my room
perfuming my sheets
Reminding me of
the pleasures you gave -
sleeping, your body next to mine -
curled 'round me, holding me close...
Causing me to think
of waking, in the morn'
to see you there:
so sweet in sleep
Your warmth and roughness
so dear next to my softness;
I miss you so. How can you
be gone already?
Your lips - parted
easy breathing
relaxed, with me;
your vitality I loved.
Lovely, black thick lashes
fringing those puppy eyes:
those orbs - seemed so sincere
your talent for untruth never showed.
Nothing left now, of you,
here in my abode
where you would come
to be with me. Safe...
Knowing how much
I cared, and would have
done anything for you.
To ease your pain...
And all you brought
was confusion - your
need to hurt another,
for what you'd suffered.
There is not a shred
of the scent of you
left here, in me, my rooms.
Sad it is, that you have left...
So cold, my heart, but
not bitter. I almost
understand you. Taking
what you need, then leaving...
Goodbye, farewell,
may your journies
find you well, and whole -
Take care not to use all who welcome you so...
K.E.C., January 1997