It is as though you were dead. There is nothing to be done. Only accept it, and hurt.
The layers I have put around the pain of your going are thin. I walk softly through life, adding thickness each day. A thought or feeling of you cracks the surface. A call to you shatters it all. I spend the night in death, and spin the first layer of life with the sunrise.
I found in you a home. Your departure left me a shelterless victim of a major disaster. I called the Red Cross, but they refused to send over a nurse.
To give you up-God what a bell of freedom that rings within me. No more waiting for reasons to write letters, make phone calls, or buy post cards just for you. No more creative energy wasted on letters never mailed. After a while no more insanity, some more happiness, and some more life. All it will take is giving you up. And that will take quite a bit.
I write only until I cry. Which is why so few poems this month haven't been completed. It's just that.....
What do I do now that I am alone? Well, when there's nothing else going on, which is quite often, I sit in a corner and I cry until I am too numbed to feel. Paralyzed, motionless for a while, nothing moving inside or out. Then I think how much I miss you. Then I feel fear, pain, loneliness, and desperation. Then I cry until I am too numbed to feel. Interesting pass time!
As the memory of your light fades my days grow dark. My nights are lit with electric bulbs. I cannot sleep. I am afraid of the dark. I am afraid that our love will return and then fade again. I am afraid that our love will never return. I am afraid that my next thought will be of you. I am afraid I will run out of poems before I run out of pain.
Shifting through the ashes of our relationship, I find many things to be grateful for. I can say thank you for all the love you have ever offered me. I can say thank you for being there, willing to be shared. I can say thank you for the countless poems you were the inspiration for and the changes you were forced into. But how in my grasp of the English language, faltering as it is, can I ever thank you for you?
