POETRY

The River

The dark currents of never seeing her again

Photo by nate rayfield on Unsplash

For me —

There is no slaking
this thirst by drinking
No quieting this hunger
by bread or by meat
No quenching this desire
by yielding

There is no escaping this ache
by one final coming together

We are well beyond finals now
and there is no relief from
this dream by waking
No quieting this moan
by hearing it fade
No pouring myself
into her wonderful warmth
No release by melting

Surely, this is a sickness
When not a minute passes
without the thought of her
When not a breath escapes me
without the need to touch
to hold, to bury my face
in her hair and vanish
into that dark river

Surely, this is a sickness
this awful pull
this unreasoning
this unseeing
that sees nothing but her
that feels…